Investigating the Magic
by Forensiphile
Summary: When Grissom and Sara work a case in the most improbable of locales they discover secrets about it and each other.
1. Default Chapter

TITLE: Investigating the Magic  
  
AUTHOR: Devanie Maxwell  
  
RATING: R for graphic images and disillusionment.  
  
CATEGORY: SAH, G/S UST/potential R  
  
SPOILERS: Slight season one and two, small reference to Burden of   
Proof  
  
SUMMARY: When Grissom and Sara work a case in the most improbable of   
locales they uncover secrets about it and each other.  
  
DISCLAIMER: There is absolutely no way this would ever be an episode.   
I felt I had to write it myself. Grissom and Sara belong to Alliance-  
Atlantis, CBS, and each other. No infringement intended.  
  
AUTHOR'S NOTES: There are times in life when you have an idea so   
ridiculous that you should discard it immediately; this was one of   
those times. However, rather than heeding my internal alarm I   
continued undaunted. The following story is based on a true incident   
that I know way too much about. Most of the accounts and details in   
this story are factual. I took artistic license with the "twist" of   
plot. I love Walt Disney World and mean no disrespect. However, there   
are a lot of fascinating stories to be told and I wanted my two   
favorite characters to explore this one. :-) I hope you enjoy. Thanks   
to Alison for all of her help, Amber/Minttown1 for motivating me,   
Midnight Caller for telling me that it doesn't totally suck, and Andi   
for being one of my best friends of life. This one is for you!  
  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~   
  
Chapter One  
  
  
"Have you ever been to Disney World?"  
  
Sara regarded Grissom from her chair across from him and lifted an   
eyebrow. It was hard to tell whether it was a legitimate question or   
a riddle. Taking a chance on the former she answered honestly. "No."   
She watched as Grissom shuffled papers around on his desk before   
settling his attention on a brown folder. When he didn't follow up on   
his original question she waited several moments in silence before   
clearing her throat. "Grissom?"  
  
He slid a sheet of paper toward her without looking up from his   
notes. Sara grabbed the letter and surveyed its contents. "You're   
kidding." It was a statement, not a question.  
  
"No. A friend of mine at the Orange County Sheriffs' Department   
contacted me last night. His name is Steve Pewter; he heads up the   
lab there. I knew him from when we both worked in LA. Anyway, he   
called me about a possible homicide that took place three days ago in   
one of the parks. There are some entomological aspects of the case   
that make it interesting."  
  
Sara nodded. "And he called you and not one of the other fourteen   
specialists because..."  
  
He had expected the question. "First, I'm a friend. He knows my work.   
Second, Disney has been fairly accommodating to the investigation on   
the terms that this stays as under the radar as possible. They   
requested that if the case required an extended investigation that   
any specialized law enforcement come from an as outside source as   
possible. Less potential for leaks that way."  
  
"I see." Sara paused a moment. "But why the secrecy?"  
  
"Since 1971 there have only been seven "official" deaths on Walt   
Disney World property. Fewer than that have been recorded as   
suspicious."  
  
"How is that possible? They've had millions of visitors. Probability   
alone..."  
  
Grissom nodded, cutting her off. "They have a strong relationship   
with the local press and a long-standing policy of waiting until   
outside property lines to pronounce death. Only a technicality, but   
it's legal. Disney operates much like a city; they have their own   
government. The only thing that keeps them from annexing themselves   
is that they don't want or need to operate their own school system.   
So, they have their own paramedics and fire rescue operated under the   
auspices of the Reedy Creek Improvement District."  
  
"Wow. Is there something about this death that makes it worthy of   
special attention?" Sara asked, processing the information.  
  
Grissom reached into the folder and slid out several black and white   
photographs. He handed them to her and watched as she paled visibly.  
  
"Oh my God." She breathed as she looked at the images. They were   
autopsy photos of what appeared to be a young male, his face quite   
literally split in two. A deep crevice separated his features   
horizontally, essentially crushing his skull and giving the   
appearance of a partial decapitation. Sara stared, transfixed, until   
Grissom continued.  
  
"Josh Holland, twenty-six year old vacationing from Cartersville,   
Georgia. The body was found on the tracks of the Tomorrowland Transit   
Authority inside the Magic Kingdom. Someone working at the attraction   
shortly after the park closed found it. Based on early scene analysis   
by the locals they felt it was an accident, that he simply fell in   
front of the other train."  
  
"But now they've found something to contradict that?" Sara asked,   
clearly intrigued.  
  
"The body was found on the section of track where it was least likely   
to be discovered; it was inside Space Mountain where the darkness and   
noise from the ride would provide a pretty effective hiding space."   
Grissom looked almost excited by the prospect of this case' Sara was   
pretty sure she knew why.  
  
"So, where do your friends come in?" She asked, knowing what was   
ahead.  
  
Grissom was ready for the question. "Do you want the Latin version?"  
  
"Try me." Sara said with a quick grin.  
  
"Dendroctonus terebrans." He didn't continue and Sara knew what was   
expected.  
  
She sighed and looked around his office as if the walls would give   
her the answer. Her own interest in entomology came mostly from   
Grissom's enthusiasm on the subject. "Dendro..." She broke it down in   
her head. She hit the arm of the chair as the name came to her. "Pine   
Bark Beetle!" She exclaimed, vindicated.  
  
"Very good." Grissom smiled. "Or the Black Turpentine Beetle. It's a   
native of Florida that feeds on the inside of pine trees and   
typically lives near the water. Three of them were found on the vic."  
  
"Inside a theme park in a concrete structure fifty feet above the   
ground." Sara added, scanning the report.  
  
"Right." He pushed what appeared to be an airline boarding pass   
toward her. "Go home, pack a suitcase, and meet me at the gate at   
seven."  
  
Sara stared at him. This was more than just a little surreal. "It's   
just you and me?"  
  
"The lab can't spare more than one other person. We'll be working in   
consult with the Orange County team." Grissom watched Sara, who   
seemed almost confused.  
  
"Why me?"  
  
"Why not you?" He answered, his face expressionless.  
  
Sara considered him a moment and then shrugged. "Seven?"  
  
Grissom nodded and watched her leave. She had been his first choice.   
She had a natural enthusiasm for the more atypical cases and was   
probably the brightest when it came to deduction. He also wanted to   
give her some time outside the lab. She hadn't taken any time off   
since he had called her to Vegas; she could use the change of   
scenery. His motives weren't purely selfless, however. They had just   
started to move in a forward direction again after the strain of her   
leave of absence request earlier in the year. He was anxious to spend   
more time with her, not because of whatever the thing was that was   
growing between them, but simply because he wanted to. It was a hard   
feeling for him to reconcile.  
  
  
Three Hours Later  
  
  
Sara pushed her way down the narrow aisle behind Grissom, wincing as   
the passenger behind her slammed a carry-on bag into the back of her   
calves. The movement shoved her forward into Grissom, who turned his   
head to see what the commotion was.  
  
"I hate people." Sara stated through gritted teeth.  
  
Grissom simply smiled and motioned to their seats. After lifting his   
bag and her backpack into the overhead, he stood back to let her in   
next to the window.  
  
"Can I have the aisle?" Sara asked.  
  
"You don't want the window?" Grissom was surprised.  
  
"I don't like to look out. Besides, I'm almost as tall as you."  
  
"That's not the..." Grissom was cut off by the voice of the man   
behind Sara.  
  
"I'd like to get to my seat, please."  
  
Grissom watched Sara's face and recognized the warning signs. He   
grabbed her arm and pulled her into their row behind him. She scowled   
and sat down, arms crossed. He looked on in thinly veiled amusement.   
She looked at him from the corner of her eye, tried to keep her own   
smile in check, and lost. Grissom was relieved to see that; the   
thought of spending four hours to a cranky Sara was less than   
appealing. "Better?"  
  
"No."  
  
Grissom nodded and clasped his seat belt; Sara followed suit as the   
plane started to taxi down the runway. Grissom listened absently to   
the flight attendant's instructions about what to do in the event of   
a water landing. He noticed Sara watching with rapt interest. He   
noticed her right hand clutching the armrest, her knuckles   
white. "Sara?"  
  
"Mmmm?" Her eyes not leaving the woman at the front of the plane   
demonstrating how to inflate a Day-Glo orange life preserver.  
  
"Are you afraid of flying? I didn't think you were afraid of   
anything."  
  
She turned to him. "I'm not. Except flying."  
  
"And bees." He reminded.  
  
"I'm not afraid of bees; I just hate them."  
  
Grissom left that alone. He watched as her fingers drummed nervously   
against the top of her thigh. "So you, Sara "Mile-High Club" Sidle,   
are afraid to fly."  
  
If he was trying to distract her it was working. "That...that was   
less a product of desire and more a product of the five little   
bottles of airline rum I drank to forget where I was."  
  
"Oh."  
  
"But it's okay. I took something right before we got on the plane.   
I'll probably sleep through most of the flight if that's okay." She   
already looked a little glazed.  
  
"That's fine." He was vaguely aware of the lift as the plane took   
off. Sara's eyes were closed and she was reciting something softly.  
  
Grissom couldn't help but smirk. "Is that the periodic table?"  
  
She lifted her lids slowly and turned slightly toward him. "Hey, it   
helps."  
  
He smiled and shook his head. "So, are you looking forward to the   
case?"  
  
Sara yawned. "Yeah, nothing makes a trip to Disney World more special   
than a decapitation."  
  
"It could be a simple Vegas decapitation."  
  
"True. Do I get mouse ears?" She was nearly asleep now.  
  
"With your own money."  
  
"Fine." Grissom watched as her head started to dip and finally rested   
on his shoulder. He reached forward and took the in-flight magazine   
from its pocket and found the crossword page. It was going to be a   
long trip.  
  
  
---------------------------  
  
TBC in Chapter Two 


	2. Chapter Two

Chapter Two  
  
Disclaimers, headers in Chapter One.  
  
  
  
******  
  
Disney's Contemporary Resort  
Lobby  
12:35 am  
  
"This is our hotel?" Sara asked, very much awake. The smile hadn't   
left her face since the plane landed. She turned to Grissom, who   
looked vaguely horrified. She laughed and walked farther in the   
lobby, taking in everything.  
  
"I feel like I just walked into a Dali painting." Grissom surveyed   
the large room. Teal pillars, pink walls, purple accents, and   
furniture he could only describe as odd adorned the lobby. A marble   
check-in desk stretched nearly the length of the space. To his right   
was a statue of Mickey Mouse shaking the hand of a man the plaque   
identified as Leopold Stokowski. "This is..."  
  
"Retro-futuristic?" He turned to see a man in a dark suit approach   
them. "That's what we like to call it at least. I'm Michael Overbeke.   
I'm a GSM here."  
  
"Gil Grissom. This is Sara Sidle." They shook hands with Overbeke,   
whose nametag only referred to him as Michael from Reading, Pa. He   
appeared to be in his mid-forties and was slightly balding. "GSM?"  
  
Michael smiled broadly as he clarified. "Guest Services Manager. I   
handle the front office here. Generally I work during the day, but I   
was told to oversee your reservations. I take it the bellman took   
your luggage?"  
  
"Yes." Sara said absently, her attention on the giant screen on the   
other side of the escalators. Pluto had Mickey pinned to the ground   
and was licking his face enthusiastically. Pluto was always her   
favorite.  
  
"Good! Follow me, then." They followed Michael to a bank of elevators   
with silver doors. Stepping in, he watched as the manager inserted a   
key and pressed the button for the fourteenth floor. "The 14th is our   
concierge level. You were booked as VIPs, so we had already assigned   
you the services, but since this is our peak season we had to upgrade   
several guests. I was sent a memo from operations to make sure you   
two topped the list."  
  
Grissom slanted his eyes at Sara. Michael most likely didn't know   
about the reason for their visit. He wondered if those in charge were   
simply making it convenient for them, or there was another   
motivation. "That's very kind of you." He responded evenly.  
  
Sara echoed his thanks, but Michael waved them off. "It's our   
pleasure."   
  
The doors opened and they exited into a hallway with a marble floor   
and paintings lining the walls. They approached the desk at the end   
of the hall where a concierge smiled in greeting. "This is Richard.   
He's going to take care anything you need during your stay. All of   
the arrangements have already been taken care of, so he'll just have   
you sign the registration card and hand you the keys. Of course, if   
you have any questions he can't help you out with, don't hesitate to   
contact me." He handed each of them his card. They smiled their   
thanks.  
  
The rest of the check-in went quickly; once they said they were there   
on business, Richard was able to eliminate his spiel about park hours   
and night show times. They both listened in silence until they were   
handed their keys. "You're in room 4914; that's a bay view suite."  
  
Grissom and Sara looked at each other. She stifled a smile at his   
flummoxed expression. "A suite?" She asked, slightly confused   
herself. "I thought we had adjoining rooms."  
  
"You were upgraded." Richard stated with a touch of   
apprehension. "It's a two-bedroom suite. Is that okay?"  
  
"Is that okay with you?" Sara looked at Grissom; his face had   
reverted from confused back to blank. He nodded and grabbed the   
paperwork from the desk. Richard led them down another hallway to a   
set of double doors.  
  
"Here we are. Again, if you need anything, please ask." They watched   
as he turned and walked away.  
  
"They're helpful." Grissom seemed suspicious.  
  
"I think they're just like that." Sara shrugged.  
  
"I don't know..." He slid the key into the lock and pushed the door   
open into one of the largest hotel rooms he had ever seen.  
  
"Wow." Sara turned in a circle, surveying the suite. "Look at this   
place. I've never been in one this big unless, you know, I was   
processing it."  
  
Grissom nodded. It was huge. They were standing in the foyer of a   
large central living area that was surprisingly ornate given the   
impressionistic style of the rest of the resort. Dark wood furniture   
was set off by warm colors on the wall. Pieces of modernistic table   
art accented the room. His attention was drawn by the gift basket on   
the small table in front of him, however. Sara followed his gaze and   
approached.  
  
"Look at this. Wine, cheese, chocolates...someone wants us to enjoy   
ourselves." She waggled her eyebrows at Grissom, who rolled his eyes   
in response.  
  
"You don't think this is odd? Expensive hotel room, gifts, managers   
coming in after midnight to walk us to our floor?"  
  
"Of course it is, but it's not going to make us any less objective.   
They probably just want to keep us as distant from the rest of the   
guests as possible. Less questions that way." She grabbed an envelope   
addressed to Grissom off the table. "What's this?"  
  
He took the letter from her and surveyed the contents. "That gives us   
about twenty minutes," he said to Sara's back as she crossed the  
room to the sliding glass door "It's from Steve. We're to meet him   
downstairs at 1:15 and he'll take us to the scene. Pulling it open,   
she stepped out onto the balcony. "Check out this view, Grissom." She   
called back.   
  
He walked out onto the patio and immediately looked down. He   
regretted it. The hotel was an a-frame and the effect was rather   
dizzying. He stepped closer to Sara almost subconsciously. Adjusting   
his eye level he looked out over Bay Lake. He could see lights   
dotting the shoreline on the other side. The silence and the moon   
reflecting off the water created a serene setting that was almost   
jarring compared to anything else they had encountered that evening.   
He felt Sara's arm brush his as she pointed out to an island in the   
center of the lake. There was a single light on one end. "That's   
Discovery Island. It used to be a nature park until they condemned it   
a few years ago. They said it was because there just wasn't enough   
interest anymore, but in reality the buildup of bird feces had gotten   
to a such toxic level that hazmat suits had to be worn to   
decontaminate the area. It's more dangerous than asbestos."  
  
He looked at her; she knew how to create a mood. "And you know this   
how?"  
  
"I read a lot."  
  
"You read too much, Sara."  
  
"Says the pot to the kettle."  
  
He smiled and walked back into suite. "We'd better change. It's hot   
out there."  
  
Sara looked down at her own sweatshirt and jeans. It had been a lot   
cooler when they left Vegas. She looked at the doors on either side   
of the living room. "Which bedroom do I get?"  
  
Grissom walked to the one to his right. Looking in he saw a small   
suitcase, a backpack, and a familiar silver case. "Your things are in   
here." He looked back a moment. "Is that all you brought? We could be   
here a week."  
  
She shook her head. "I moved to college with less stuff than that."  
  
"Right, I forgot who I was talking to." He walked across the room to   
his door.  
  
  
******  
  
  
Grissom, cell phone pressed to his ear, saw Sara emerge from her   
bedroom several minutes later. She looked much more comfortable in a   
sleeveless blue top, black pants, and her standard black ankle boots.   
He listened to Catherine in one ear while watching Sara open and   
close the cabinets behind the bar. "We just got in about thirty   
minutes ago...The flight was fine...The hotel is interesting." He   
covered his left ear with his hand as Sara yelled from the kitchen.  
  
"Grissom! There are little Mickey Mouse shaped butter statues in the   
fridge!" She cackled.  
  
He glared at her while trying to hear the phone. "Yes, that's   
Sara...We're sharing..." He sighed. "It's not like that; I think   
they're trying to bribe us. Our suite's bigger than the lab. So, back   
to the original purpose of my call, how are things there? Nick's   
case...No, she has her own bedroom." He answered, looking at the   
ceiling. He winced as another drawer slammed. "I should go. We need   
to get to the scene and I have to install child locks in here." He   
heard Sara snort in response. He hung up the phone and turned to look   
at her, bemused. "Are you ready to go?"  
  
She was already out the door.  
  
  
-----------------  
  
TBC in Chapter Three 


	3. Chapter Three

Continued from Chapter Two  
  
Headers, disclaimers in Chapter One  
  
Previous chapters can be found at   
  
http://www.grissomandsara.com/fanfic/dustcoverpages/magic.htm Thanks   
to Andi for the great design!  
  
~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~  
  
  
  
"Gil Grissom!"  
  
Sara watched as a tall, stocky man with graying blond hair exited the   
driver's side door of a white courtesy van parked outside the front   
of the resort. He bounded over and immediately shook Grissom's hand   
and clapped him on the shoulder. "It's been a long time, man."  
  
"Yeah, what's it been? Six years?" Grissom seemed pleased to see his   
old friend, who Sara could only assume was Steve Pewter. As if he had   
read her thoughts he turned to introduce her.  
  
"No, let me guess. Sara Sidle." He grasped her hand. "I've heard a   
lot about you."  
  
She arched an eyebrow at Grissom and spoke. "You must be Steve   
Pewter. I'm pleased to meet you; Grissom speaks very highly of your   
work."  
  
Steve laughed, the sound reverberating in the portico. "I find that   
hard to believe." He gestured to the van. "Why don't we get in? I can   
fill you in on the way."  
  
The followed him to the unmarked vehicle and waited as pulled back   
the sliding doors. Sara slid quickly into the back seat, choosing to   
let Grissom take the front with his old colleague. They sat in   
silence while Steve drove through the large parking lot and onto the   
road in front of the hotel. To their left she could see the lighted   
red spires of what she recognized from the brochures as the Grand   
Floridian. To the north the top of Cinderella Castle was almost   
visible; it was cast in an almost eerie blue glow.  
  
"This is World Parkway." Steve began. "It runs the entire length of   
Disney property. We're on the very north end of it right now. Walt   
Disney wanted to place the Magic Kingdom here so the guests would   
have to see the rest of his "world" in order to get to what is   
probably still the centerpiece of the resort." They passed some   
elaborate topiary as they neared a large white dome. "This is Space   
Mountain on your left. We'll be going in there in a bit. It's where   
the vic was found."  
  
"I thought he was on the people mover." Grissom interjected.  
  
"Tomorrowland Transit Authority." He corrected. "And yes. During its   
route it moves through Space Mountain. The lack of light and the loud   
noise from the ride kept anyone from being alerted right away. The   
cast member missed it on the video feed. The trains are programmed to   
stop if they run into any interference, so the next one to pass   
through braked when it hit the body. Fortunately it was empty at the   
time."  
  
They drove around a bend in the road and the change was jarring. The   
scenery had transitioned from water, intricate landscaping, and   
resorts to a series of large, beige warehouses on dusty lots. They   
slowed to pass through a security booth. Steve flashed an ID to the   
guard and they continued down a smaller, dirt road. They pulled to a   
stop in front of a wide, green gate illuminated by flood lamps. A   
small sign on both sides read "Gates must remain closed during park   
hours. All Cast must be in costume beyond this point."   
  
Steve pulled the van over to the side and turned off the ignition.   
They exited and he led them to a rotating steel gate. He handed both   
Grissom and Sara blue cards with a magnetic strip on the   
back. "These are temporary IDs. They'll get you access to backstage,   
the parks, all cast areas, and use of the offstage transportation.   
It's the same identification as the salary cast here has. At no point   
should you identify yourselves as criminalists, nor should anyone ask   
you to do so. Keep those cards around your necks at all times and no   
one will question your presence." Grissom and Sara watched as he   
swiped his ID through a scanner to the right of the gate. A loud buzz   
resonated in the night and he pushed through; they repeated his   
actions and were soon inside.  
  
"Well, this is different." Sara commented, blinking from the bright   
light that greeted them inside the park.  
  
"Just like home, huh?" Steve responded, his voice echoing off the   
steel and concrete that surrounded them.  
  
"Maybe if you were Tron." Grissom said, dryly.  
  
Sara looked confused. "Tron?"  
  
"You don't..." Grissom started, and then changed his mind. "You were   
ten."  
  
Sara smiled as they continued walking. She surveyed the area as if it   
were any other scene. Unlike most scenes, however, this one was   
bathed in a glow of purple and green light; it bounced off the   
metallic surfaces that framed the perimeter of what she now knew as   
Tomorrowland.  
  
"Why is everything so bright if the park is closed?" She asked. It   
was disconcerting.  
  
"It provides light for the custodial and grounds cast. They work all   
night. That and it takes less power just to leave most of the   
attractions' lighting on rather than powering them up in the morning."  
  
"I can't imagine the power bill." Grissom remarked.  
  
Steve waved his hand in dismissal. "If they had to pay it. Disney   
makes its own power. They're completely self-sufficient in that   
respect."  
  
They walked about twenty yards across the slate gray pavement; the   
only sound came from some low ambient techno music emanating from   
somewhere in the vicinity. They approached the base of an attraction;   
a sign identified it as the Tomorrowland Transit Authority. They had   
reached their destination. Grissom heard Sara laugh softly behind   
him. He turned to her. "What?"  
  
She gestured to the barrier to the inclined walkway. A bright graphic   
of Mickey Mouse holding a paintbrush accompanied the words: "We are   
refurbishing for future magic!" Grissom shook his head as she spoke   
again. "It doesn't have the charm of your typical crime scene tape,   
but I suppose it works."  
  
Steve stepped over the barrier onto the rubber footing. "Yeah, kinda   
morbid, isn't it? Once there was an incident in your hotel. Woman   
left her fiancé a Dear John letter on his pillow. He went into the   
hall, threw himself over the ledge, and landed on top of the gift   
shop. Security threw one of these partitions up around the body,   
where it stayed for fifteen hours until they could finally remove it   
unnoticed."  
  
"Does that happen a lot?" Grissom asked, intrigued.  
  
"Disney builds their reputation on 'preserving the magical guest   
experience.' Last thing they want is to have their cred damaged   
because some kid on the monorail sees some guy splatter himself on   
top of Kingdom Jewelers, you know?"  
  
Grissom nodded and swung himself over the barrier, offering a hand to   
Sara behind him. Both on the platform now, they climbed up to the   
loading dock of the ride. Several blue open-air trains sat on the   
tracks; doing a quick calculation Grissom saw that they could   
probably carry approximately fifty passengers. A bank of monitors and   
a computer control panel sat in plain view from their vantage point   
on the walkway. "The ride is operated right here? Where anyone can   
have access to it?"  
  
Steve shrugged. "A trained monkey could operate this system. Even if   
someone had unauthorized access to it they couldn't do anything but   
stop the trains. They run on a continuous loop; this walkway we're on   
is a moving sidewalk." He jumped across an empty section of   
track. "The scene is over near Space Mountain. It's quickest if we   
just cut through."  
  
Grissom and Sara followed, strips of lighting along the tracks   
illuminating their path. They could barely make out the shadowy   
figure of the sheriff in front of them now. His voice bounced off the   
walls as he spoke. "Sara, have you ever been to Walt Disney World   
before?"  
  
"No, Disneyland, though." She brushed her fingers along the wall in   
order to balance herself as they walked along a narrow portion of the   
beam.  
  
"Disneyland's cool, but there's really no comparison. Maybe we can   
take a day while you're here and I'll show you around." Sara couldn't   
tell from his tone whether "you" referred to both her and Grissom or   
just her. She just answered with a neutral "Maybe."  
  
The three investigators came to a stop as Steve flipped on a set of   
emergency lights. "This is where the vic was found." He pointed to a   
section of the track marked by orange traffic cones. It wasn't hard   
to tell where the body had rested; the metal rail that powered the   
cars was painted crimson-brown with dried blood. Several blue cars   
sat derailed to their left.  
  
"Was that where the train stopped after the vic was hit?" Sara asked.   
The bloodstain was nearly twenty feet to the right of the tram.  
  
"Unfortunately not. A cast member attempted a rescue and rolled them   
backward." Steve responded with a 'what can you do' gesture.  
  
"How many people have had access to this area?" Grissom spoke as he   
bent down to examine the metal wheel on the front car, using a gloved   
finger to trace the outline of the red spatter pattern.  
  
"Just my team, some officers, and the attractions manager. We've   
posted some security personnel at all the entrances to this ride,   
both guest and cast. They even closed Space Mountain, which is   
another reason they want this cleaned up fast."  
  
"We're not rushing the process, Steve." Grissom said tersely.  
  
Steve lifted a hand in response. "You're preaching to the choir, Gil.   
Take as much time as you need. Disney will ride your ass, but they're   
not above the law. They know that. Just keep this on the down-low and   
everyone will be happy."  
  
Sara was on the tracks now, having taken one of the kits from where   
it had rested against the wall. She had taken out one of the tools   
and was scraping at the dried blood, depositing what she collected in   
the plastic pouch in her other palm. Grissom watched Steve stare at   
her intently, his friend's eyes moving up and down her bent   
form. "What do you have there, Sara?" Grissom asked, wincing at his   
weak attempt at a diversion technique.  
  
She turned her head toward him. "Blood, Grissom. You typically find   
it at crime scenes that involve...bleeding." He could almost swear   
she winked at him, but chalked it up to the dim light.  
  
"You trained her well. No wonder you called her your best student."  
  
Grissom saw Sara's smile turn into a full grin. Slightly embarrassed,   
he stepped down next to her. He took the camera from the black bag at   
her side. Turning it in his hands he shouted back to Steve. "You guys   
use these old things? They're archaic."  
  
"Not everyone can have your budget."  
  
Sara grabbed the camera from Grissom. "Let me do that; you collect   
the samples."  
  
They worked in silence for almost four hours, first collecting the   
blood and fiber evidence from the steel, and then mapping out what   
had taken place. The spatter was consistent with a low speed impact.   
The tram had hit the victim, but it was not clear why or how it   
occurred. The few fibers that had been found were consistent with the   
clothing that he'd been found in. The only significant find of the   
evening had come when Grissom had extracted a long black thread just   
inches from where the blood was at its most dense. There was no way   
to tell whether it had to do with their case or had come from one of   
the nearly five thousand passengers the attraction transported during   
an average late summer day.  
  
"I think we've done all we can for tonight. Tomorrow we'll set up a   
meeting with the coroner in Osceola County and see if we can find any   
other source of trauma." Grissom said, breaking the quiet. He turned   
to Steve. "Can we get use of some dummies? Tomorrow I want to do a   
reenactment. Something just doesn't seem to add up here. Not to   
mention the bugs; I think that's where the focus should be." He wiped   
his forehead; the Florida humidity wasn't something he was accustomed   
to.  
  
"Sure thing. I'll get you anything you need." Steve said affably.  
  
Grissom nodded and stepped back up onto the platform. He looked down   
at Sara who was starting to show her own fatigue. He glanced at his   
watch; it was nearing five AM. He reached an arm down to her; she   
grabbed his hand gratefully and jumped up next to him. He motioned   
her ahead of him down the path and stepped in front of Steve. "   
Sorry." Grissom offered as the other man almost stumbled into   
him. "It's a little hard to see in here."  
  
"Yeah."  
  
Twenty minutes later they had returned to the hotel. After setting up   
arrangements with Steve for the tests they would do the next day,   
they left the van and walked through the lobby to the elevator,   
enjoying the cool air. They rode up in companionable silence. The   
doors slid open and they made their way to the room. Sara searched   
her front pockets. "Do you have the key?"  
  
Grissom reached in his back pocket and retrieved the card. Sliding it   
into the lock the door opened with a soft snick. Once inside he went   
to check messages on the phone while Sara threw herself face down on   
the couch.  
  
"No messages." Grissom returned the receiver to its cradle. "I guess   
that means we can go to bed."  
  
"I thought you'd never ask" came her muffled reply. She made no   
effort to move.  
  
He decided to ignore that. "Get up, Sara. We have a busy day   
tomorrow. Meeting with the coroner, I want to review the initial   
reports, we have to run the reenact..."  
  
She groaned and slowly got to her feet with a look that he could only   
describe as an annoyed blink. He remembered she had taken sleeping   
pills for the flight; it was surprising she was still operating at   
all. His voice was softer as he continued. "You go to bed. I'll see   
you in the morning and we can set up our schedule from there."  
  
"It better involve mouse ears."  
  
"What?" Grissom pretended not to catch that.  
  
"You heard me." She closed the door behind her; he turned and headed   
to his own room. If the crime scene had been any indication this case   
was only going to get stranger.  
  
  
TBC 


	4. Chapter Four

Chapter Four  
  
Headers, disclaimers in Chapter One  
  
  
  
******  
  
The heat from the eastern sun splayed across Grissom's face through   
the window, drawing him from sleep. He adjusted his eyes to the glare   
while he processed his surroundings. Resort. Disney. The memories of   
the previous day filtered in as he lifted his wrist to check his   
watch. It was just past ten in the morning—a little earlier than what   
he was accustomed to, but the gnawing in his stomach encouraged him   
to leave the bed. He hadn't eaten since the light meal on the plane.   
Rubbing the sleep from his eyes he grabbed his carry-on from the   
dresser and walked into the bathroom. After a quick shower he   
redressed in gray pants and a black button-down shirt, the latter   
hanging open as he walked into the living room, towel drying his   
hair. He stopped short at the soft sound of the television coming   
from the middle of the room. Dropping the towel away from his eyes he   
was startled to see Sara sitting in the semi-dark, staring in the   
general vicinity of his chest. Surprised, he fumbled with the small   
buttons as she looked on in amusement.  
  
"Hey, don't get dressed on my account." She was sitting on the couch,   
her legs tucked up next to her. She had a bagel in one hand; a half   
empty glass of orange juice sat on the coffee table.  
  
Grissom slanted his eyes at her and took a seat on the couch as   
well. "What are you watching?"  
.  
"Disney Information Network. Did you know as resort guests we are   
allowed to enter the park an hour before non-resort visitors?" she   
parroted. "It was our `zip-a-dee-doo-da tip-for-the-day.'"  
  
"Oh, god." He grimaced. He watched her lick a bit of cream cheese off   
her thumb. "Where did you get that?"  
  
"They have a bar set up near the concierge desk. I brought you some   
fruit and a cinnamon roll. It's on the counter."  
  
"Thanks. Coffee?"  
  
"Of course." She grinned at him. "It's there."  
  
He got up and moved to the counter where he looked in the mug with an   
odd expression. "What's in it?"  
  
"Cream." She responded in an obvious tone.  
  
"Why is it orange?"  
  
"Hazelnut cream."   
  
Grissom squinted at her. "Who uses that?"  
  
"I do." She looked back at the television now, signaling the end of   
their exchange. He brought his breakfast back to the table in front   
of them and sat back down, either not noticing or not caring that her   
sock-clad toes rested against his outer thigh. They watched in   
interest as a promo for the Disney-MGM Studios on the screen. Sara   
frowned. "That Tower of Terror ride looks more nauseating every time."  
  
"Every time? How long have you been up?" He had been surprised to see   
her awake as it was; she was exhausted the night before.  
  
"A couple hours. I slept a lot on the plane." She added as if reading   
his thoughts. She reached over and grabbed a piece of melon from his   
plate, cringing as the people on TV plunged down the elevator shaft   
for the fourth time. "Did you hear from the coroner?"  
  
"They forwarded a message from the front desk right before I fell   
asleep last night. He'll be sending a copy of the pathology findings   
and the autopsy photos through email."  
  
"We don't have to go to the lab?" Sara asked, surprised.  
  
He nodded. "Not today at least. We're meeting Steve at eight inside   
the park. The public will still be there, so he's taking us in   
another way."  
  
"Okay." She sat in thought for a moment. "I'm curious to get the   
analysis on that black fiber we found. It's a heavy material; doesn't   
seem to fit with what you'd normally find in that kind of setting."  
  
"It's difficult to tell. My priority is the pine beetles right now.   
If that body was transported we need to know how and when. It could   
explain the fibers."  
  
Sara stared at him. "Transported? What about the spatter?"  
  
"That's why we need to see those autopsy reports." He reminded. He   
looked at her black tank top, sweatpants, and her hair, pulled back   
into a ponytail. "Get dressed."  
  
She looked confused now. "Why? You just said we were free until   
tonight."  
  
"We are."  
  
  
  
"You have got to be kidding me."  
  
He merely looked at her, an uncharacteristic grin spread across his   
face.  
  
"No, Grissom." Sara looked at the façade of the old hotel in front of   
her. "I hate this ride."  
  
"You've never been on this ride." He tossed back.  
  
She crossed her arms in front of her. "I'm not going. I'll wait." She   
searched the area behind her with her eyes. "There's an ice cream   
cart over there. How about you go and I'll get us some." Her eyebrows   
lifted hopefully.  
  
"No."  
  
"Coasters are your thing. I never have liked them." Sara stated,   
already turning toward the exit.  
  
"This isn't a roller coaster. This is a freefall."  
  
"You're not helping your case."  
  
Grissom shook his head. "Just once. I'll even buy you a t-shirt."  
  
"Like I'll want to be reminded of this." She regarded him; an   
enthusiastic Grissom was a rare Grissom these days. "Okay, but I   
reserve the right to leave if I change my mind."  
  
"You won't." He put a hand at her back and directed her forward   
through the fog and crumbled brick that framed the entrance to the   
attraction. His light touch turned into a push as a series of loud   
screams caused her to stop and look at the source of the noise nearly   
thirteen stories up. "That's just an effect." He lied.  
  
The skepticism on her face was evident as they weaved through the   
queue and the tangled vines that surrounded it. They passed a stone-  
faced cast member in a bellhop uniform as they entered the lobby. The   
décor was 1930s in style; the attention to detail was impressive. Or   
it would have been, Sara thought, if the prospect of her imminent   
death weren't weighing so heavily on her mind.  
  
They followed approximately fifty other guests through a large door   
into another room. It looked like a small lobby from any old hotel;   
books lined the walls and the light came mainly from the antique   
sconces spread throughout the room. After a warning to stand clear of   
the doors as they closed the room fell into darkness. Crowded by the   
group of people around them Sara leaned into Grissom slightly.  
  
"I'd really rather not..." A video screen flickering on in front of   
them cut her off. The Twilight Zone theme played as a Rod Serling   
sound-alike told the story of the Hollywood Tower Hotel; it was a   
magnet for the rich and famous in 1939 Hollywood until a tragic   
accident. The screen showed a young family stepping into an elevator   
never to be seen again. The voiceover continued.  
  
"This, as you may recognize, is a maintenance service elevator still   
in operation, waiting for you. We invite you, if you dare, to step   
aboard because in tonight's episode, you are the star. And this   
elevator travels directly to...The Twilight Zone."  
  
Sara rolled her eyes as the doors on the opposite side of the room   
opened. "This is silly. Maybe we could call Steve and see if we can't   
get those dummies early. You like dummies, if I recall. I also   
remember..."  
  
"That you've been fighting me for the last twenty minutes on this   
ride? If once we get off this thing you've still maintained your   
excessively inordinate interest in reenacting this crime scene we'll   
place the call. I just can't help feeling you're trying to get out of   
this."  
  
He could feel, rather than see, her glare. He watched her stride   
ahead of him and nearly knock over an expressionless cast member   
asking how many people would be traveling with them. "Two." She   
answered, and then turned back to Grissom with an empowered look. He   
merely shrugged and took his spot behind her as the elevator doors   
opened. He saw her shoulders straighten as she walked to the back   
row. She started to slide in when she suddenly stopped in the narrow   
aisle.  
  
"Too late now, Sara."  
  
"I know." She said with a hint of defiance. " I just don't want to   
sit on the outside."  
  
He nodded in concession and slid across to the far side of the bench,   
his right shoulder against the metal grate. He felt the warmth of her   
body next to his as she pressed against him to allow room for the   
large man who was sitting next to her now. Grissom reached forward   
and pulled the bar in front of them over their laps. Sara looked   
stricken when she realized their traveling companion's size had left   
almost a foot between her body and the padded restraint. "Grissom!"   
She hissed in his ear.  
  
"It's okay. The bar is mainly there for you to hold onto anyway." He   
attempted to reassure her, but she had the appearance of a snared   
rabbit. The bellhop at the front of the elevator spoke again.  
  
"Are there any questions? No? Well, if you need anything, just   
scream. We hope you enjoy your stay here, and do feel free to 'drop'   
in again." And with that the doors closed and the elevator was   
immersed in complete darkness as it started to ascend. Sara's body   
tensed and both of her hands grasped the lap bar. After several   
seconds the car lurched to a stop and the doors opened again.   
Suddenly they were in an expanding hallway, the room stretching as a   
door appeared at the opposite end. The scene shifted into a vestibule   
and an odd odor filled the air.  
  
"What's that smell?" Grissom asked Sara, but her attention was on the   
five ghostly images materializing in front of them. They seemed to   
beckon the passengers toward them as an inexplicable breeze blew   
through the elevator shaft. Then the corridor and its occupants   
vanished. The window was the only thing that remained; it hung in the   
emptiness before moving toward their car where its image shattered,   
the scene transforming into a sea of stars.  
  
Grissom watched at Sara's face transformed from a look of fear to a   
sort of fascinated apprehension. It quickly changed back to fear as   
the doors slammed closed and the elevator sped upward; Rod Serling's   
voice filling the chamber again.  
  
"One stormy night long ago, five people stepped through the door of   
an elevator and into a nightmare. That door is opening once again,   
and this time, it's opening for you."  
  
"Grissom, if we live I'm never speaking to you again." The feel of   
her fingers wrapped around his lower thigh undermined her words. The   
doors opened once again and her grip tightened. He squeezed her hand,   
partly to reassure her and also because even with her short nails the   
pain was intense.  
  
The elevator moved sideways now, shifting heavily onto another track.   
It moved slowly into another dark hallway where several images   
flashed back at them. The ghosts. The window. The formula for E=MC^2   
flashed by before dissolving into nothingness. They could see   
themselves reflected in the pupil of a giant eye as it floated past.   
Her hand reached for his again as the car lurched into the drop zone,   
all sound having stopped.  
  
Grissom was only aware of her breathing as the elevator hung   
suspended for nearly ten seconds. The air became very hot, as a   
blanket of stars appeared only to fade back into darkness. Just when   
the anticipation became unbearable the seat seemed to fall out from   
underneath them.  
  
The screams of the other passengers dominated the moment as the   
elevator plunged seven stories, creating a sense of weightlessness   
before they were pulled back up to the top of the shaft. The window   
opened and Sara opened her eyes long enough to see the view of the   
rest of the park; the sight of the Mickey water tower providing a   
tranquil contrast to her own mental state. A bright flash went off   
and she was taken by surprise as they plunged down again. In the back   
of her mind she was aware of regretting having taken the seat next to   
the burly man on her other side; the front of her mind was focused on   
no longer feeling the bench beneath her. Although she knew it was   
irrational, she was convinced that Grissom's left arm was the only   
barrier between her and the concrete floor nearly 100 feet below.  
  
Two smaller, slower drops ensued before she felt the car stabilize   
and come to a stop, an electronic hum signifying that they were once   
again back on the track. They felt a soft thud as the elevator rested   
in what appeared to be the hotel basement. The lights came back on   
and Rod spoke once again.  
  
"A warm welcome back to those of you who made it, and a friendly word   
of warning; something you won't find in any guidebook. The next time   
you check into a deserted hotel on the dark side of Hollywood, make   
sure you know just what kind of vacancy you're filling...or you may   
find yourself a permanent resident of...The Twilight Zone."  
  
Grissom looked sideways at Sara who stared back, her breathing still   
shallow. "Do you hate me?" He asked, looking legitimately concerned.  
  
"Yes." She responded, deadpan. Their eyes met for several seconds   
until her lips finally turned upward. Grissom smiled back and they   
held the gaze for several seconds before Sara stood on shaky legs.   
She wobbled a bit as they descended the steps into the unloading   
area; Grissom rested a hand on her shoulder briefly.  
  
"You enjoyed it, didn't you?" He knew he was pressing his luck.  
  
"I already forgave you, Grissom. I'd like to keep it that way."  
  
He nodded. "Fair enough." He paused a moment. "I'll be right back.   
Why don't you go into the gift shop?"  
  
"Okay" She answered, assuming he needed the restroom and was   
surprised that she didn't. As she walked into the shop Sara was   
confronted with rows of merchandise. She was looking at a Hollywood   
Tower Hotel bathrobe in amusement when Grissom returned, a bag in   
hand.  
  
"What's that?" He hadn't purchased anything in the gift store; she   
would have seen him.  
  
He pulled a folder out of the plastic and flipped it open. He watched   
her face as she realized what it was.  
  
"You didn't."  
  
He shrugged.  
  
Sara looked at the photo, biting her lip to keep the laughter at bay.   
He had purchased the picture from their ride. She immediately found   
the back row. Grissom looked completely expressionless and appeared   
to be staring directly at the camera. She wasn't surprised that she   
was barely visible; her brown hair covered her face, as she appeared   
to bury herself into Grissom. "I can't believe you bought this."  
  
"I thought the rest of the team might like to see it."  
  
"They probably would; it's too bad that will never happen."  
  
"Okay, Christmas card photo."  
  
Sara shoved the picture back in the bag and smiled. She hadn't seen   
Grissom this relaxed since shortly after she had first met him back   
in San Francisco. "So, lunch?"  
  
"You can eat already?"  
  
She led the way.  
  
  
  
--------------------------- 


	5. Chapter Five

Chapter Five  
  
******  
  
  
Disney's Contemporary Resort  
Room 4924  
18:45 PM  
  
  
"Sara, it's me." Grissom called as he opened the door, not wanting   
to take her by surprise. Dropping his wallet and keycard onto the   
credenza he heard her respond.  
  
"I'm in here."  
  
She sat on the couch with her back facing him, the TV in front of   
her on but muted. Her attention was on the laptop resting across her   
legs, her fingers trailing over the keys as she scrolled through   
some text. He sat down on the couch next to her, but she didn't look   
up.  
  
"Sara?"  
  
She nodded distractedly, her hair falling in her face. She swept it   
back behind her ear as an image opened on the screen.  
  
"Is that my computer?" It was a rhetorical question; she didn't   
bring hers.  
  
"You know it is." A tiny smile played on her lips. "They finally   
sent us the autopsy reports; you were gone so I decided to go ahead   
and see if anything unusual showed up. I just looked over the tox   
screen..." She trailed off as she realized Grissom's eyes hadn't   
moved from her face. She turned her head slowly and met his   
stare. "What?"  
  
"My computer is password protected." His voice had an odd tone; If   
Sara had to describe it she might say it was annoyed curiosity.  
  
"You weren't here." She said lightly, but with a tinge of   
nervousness. "You went to the business center without me, so I   
figured I'd be proactive."  
  
"You were in the shower and that doesn't explain the password." He   
explained without pause.  
  
Sara bit her lip; Grissom was close enough now that his body heat   
was making her skin tingle. "I cracked it."  
  
She was nothing if not honest. "You guessed?"  
  
"I know you better than you think I do, Grissom." She answered,   
matter-of-fact. She arched an eyebrow as she minimized a window that   
had been open behind the report. "Or maybe not."  
  
Leaning over to look at the display, his elbow brushed the top of   
her legs as she tilted the computer away from him. He considered her   
a moment. "You only checked email." It wasn't a question. He shifted   
closer and watched as she shrugged, her eyes reflecting the light   
from the screen. "Really, how did you know my password?"  
  
Sara was aware of his breath on her cheek now; it made forming an   
answer that much more difficult. "Baseball. 'All those stats,'   
remember?" Off his blank look, she continued. "Roger Maris. He hit   
sixty-one home runs in 1961, You have one of his cards framed next   
to that singing fish in your office. Maris61."  
  
Grissom didn't know whether to be irritated at her breach or awed by   
her deduction. "You scare me sometimes, Sara."   
  
"It took me more than one try." Smiling, she relaxed against the   
cushion behind her; their shoulders were touching now. She slid the   
laptop toward him so that one half rested on his right leg. "As I   
was saying before, I just looked over the tox screen and there was   
nothing unusual. No evidence of alcohol or drug use, either."  
  
"Most fatal accidents at theme parks are due to irresponsible   
actions while inebriated."  
  
"Right." With a click she brought up an autopsy photo. "We didn't   
find any alkali fluids on the tracks, but the blood spatter pattern   
seemed to indicate that the vic was killed at the scene. The two   
would seem to contradict each other."  
  
Grissom shook his head. "The problem with contradictory evidence is   
that they only serve to rule each other out," he reminded her.  
  
"Yes, but not when you have more evidence pointing in a specific   
direction." She zoomed in on the image of Josh Holland's nearly   
obliterated face and then again on a patch of skin near his left   
ear. Sara turned her head toward Grissom, not to avoid the image but   
to gauge his reaction. Focusing on the screen, he came to the same   
realization she had.  
  
"Yellow skin. He was most likely killed elsewhere." He had suspected   
it, but there was still a piece missing.  
  
"So says the coroner, at least. That was his finding." Returning her   
attention to the screen, Sara scrolled through another report.  
  
"And the spatter?" He wasn't testing; it was one of her fortes.  
  
"Depends on transport time and speed on impact. If the conditions   
were just   
right the impact could leave a pattern like the one present on the   
wheel. I say we ask the simulation dummies." After a few more   
keystrokes she closed the computer and turned to him. Feeling her   
gaze, he met her eyes and then averted his own, suddenly aware of   
just how close they were sitting to one another. Neither one of them   
made an attempt to move.  
  
"We have to meet Steve." Grissom broke the silence.  
  
"We have to eat dinner." Sara reminded. He tended to forget about   
such trivialities during cases.  
  
Looking chagrined, he amended. "I'll buy you popcorn."  
  
With a quick eye roll she bent and slipped on her shoes. "I think   
I'll raid the concierge bar out there, but thanks."  
  
Watching her go, he reached for his laptop. He stared at the walls   
for several moments before deciding on a new password.  
  
  
~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*  
  
Magic Kingdom  
Walt Disney World  
20:15 PM  
  
  
  
"Steve said eight, right?" Sara stood at the base of the Cinderella   
Castle, scanning the crowd.  
  
Sitting on the bench, Grissom watched as Eeyore trudged through a   
crowd of children; the donkey looking beleaguered as a young boy   
pulled one his ears. He moved his attention to his watch.   
  
"It's only 8:20; he's always running late." Looking at her face   
now, he changed the subject.   
  
"You have a sunburn."  
  
"I see daylight maybe twice a month."  
  
He nodded. "There he is."  
  
Steve walked briskly through the crowd; his tall frame made him   
stand out among the throngs of children and parents crowding into   
the line for the carousel. Narrowly missing a stroller, he   
approached and stood across from them. "Sorry I'm late, guys. The   
water parks just closed and traffic was bad." He took in Sara's   
appearance as he brushed his tan arm against the reddened   
skin on her own. "It looks like you got out today."  
  
"Yeah." She didn't know why Steve's attention bothered her; he was   
most likely just being friendly.  
  
"Are we ready?" Grissom asked, apparently not in the mood for small   
talk.  
  
Motioning toward to their left, Steve led the way. After walking   
down a shaded concrete walkway they stopped at a thin wooden door. A   
small "cast only" sign was the only thing that   
differentiated it from the decorative faux entrances around the   
castle. Pushing the door open, he stepped into a dark stairwell,   
Grissom and Sara right behind him. Their footsteps echoed as they  
made their way down two flights of steps to a wide corridor below.  
  
"Where are we?" Sara looked at the wide expanse of space in either   
direction. Bright pink lettering on the wall in front of them   
identified the area as Fantasyland. Given the gray stucco   
walls and alternative music filtering through the overhead speakers,   
Sara found that somewhat implausible.  
  
"Right now? About thirty feet below where we were just standing.   
This is the Utilidor. It runs underneath the majority of the Magic   
Kingdom. It's almost like a mini-city. These hallways connect   
every `land' of the park. You have costuming, a cast cafeteria,   
computer labs…It also allows the grounds and custodial cast to move   
around without disrupting the guest experience."  
  
Grissom looked up at the metal ceiling. "So this is essentially a   
basement?"  
  
"No, a basement implies that we're underground. The park is actually   
the second floor of a two-story complex. We're actually slightly   
above ground level right now."  
  
Sara looked puzzled. "Are all the parks set up this way?"  
  
Shaking his head, Steve continued walking. "No. Well, EPCOT has a   
small Utilidor, but it's not nearly as intricate as this one. This   
park is different than the others in that there are several   
themed sections. It would be jarring to have costumed Tomorrowland   
cast walking through Fantasyland on their way to lunch…" He was cut   
off by a loud clattering sound above their heads.   
  
Startled, both Grissom and Sara stared up at the steel tubing that   
ran along the ceiling.  
  
Grissom looked at his friend. "What was that?"  
  
"When Walt Disney first opened Disneyland, he took a walk down Main   
Street. He stopped at a cart for a soda and after he had finished it   
he found himself searching for a garbage can. Not finding one   
easily, he mandated that his park have a trash bin every twelve   
feet."  
  
Grissom, not seeing the point, gave him a look he generally reserved   
for an uncooperative witness.   
  
"And?"  
  
"On a slow day the Magic Kingdom averages 45,000 visitors. They   
create a lot of garbage. There are close to 1000 trash cans.   
Emptying them manually would be a huge job, not to mention the   
environmental issues involved with all those plastic liners. When a   
guest throws away a soda bottle or popcorn box or half-eaten   
hamburger it drops directly into the tubes above your heads.   
It's a pneumatic system. Every thirty minutes the garbage is sucked   
outside into dumpsters."  
  
Sara looked impressed, but scrunched her nose. "That would explain   
the smell." She had noticed a rather foul odor from the moment they   
had exited the stairwell.  
  
"It gets pretty hot up there. Things tend to cook."  
  
After rounding the corner, Grissom and Sara both took an immediate   
step backward. Steve laughed as he saw their nearly identical   
startled expressions.  
  
Sara looked somewhat disturbed, but still managed a "Cool." Grissom   
just looked somewhat disturbed.  
  
"Welcome to the Cage." Steve's voice echoed as he led them through   
an area enclosed in chain link. "Every costumed character in the   
Magic Kingdom originates from this room."  
  
"I take it Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum have the night off?" Grissom   
pointed to their heads, suspended from hooks on the wall. Their   
disembodied faces grinned garishly at them.  
  
Sara laughed softy at his comment, but not before stepping a few   
feet away. In doing so, she nearly tripped over a large black bag at   
her feet. A flattened Pluto looked back up at her; she frowned   
back. "Well, that sucks," she said, almost to herself.  
  
"What?" Grissom turned toward her.  
  
"Nothing." She sighed. "What are the bags for?"  
  
Steve kept walking. "It's how they move the costumes from park to   
park. In case they have to transport them through guest areas they   
want to be as low profile as possible."  
  
"Makes sense." She was irrationally relieved as they left the cage.   
  
The trio continued without speaking for another 200 yards, the only   
sound the noise of a distant golf cart and their steps echoing off   
the concrete. A petite girl passed them to their right; she   
was clad in a t-shirt, shorts, and a pair of large yellow shoes.  
  
"Mickey's a girl?" Sara was irrationally surprised by the discovery.  
  
"Mickey's a girl; I've seen boy Minnies. I know you guys haven't   
been here before, but every night during the fireworks show   
Tinkerbell flies from the turret of the castle over to   
Tomorrowland. Well, the current one is a 12-year-old boy. There's a   
strict weight requirement. Not only could the wire snap, but there   
are also several cast members holding up a mattress to   
catch him on the other side. At nearly 70 miles per hour that could   
get dangerous." He laughed; Grissom and Sara stared back with   
inscrutable expressions.  
  
They stopped at a door marked Tomorrowland 3. Steve allowed them to   
enter before him, watching as they flashed their IDs to the guard at   
the desk. Continuing up the steps, the hum of an electric generator   
grew louder. The door buzzed; a blast of warm air hit them in the   
face as they walked into what appeared at first to be a large   
auditorium.  
  
They were surrounded by a maze of steel and concrete, the black   
walls lit by countless rows of fluorescent lighting. Sara's eyes   
traveled up the metal grids to the skeleton of a roller coaster.   
  
"Space Mountain?"  
  
"Yeah." Steve pointed to the an incline to their left. "That's Alpha   
track. The other one is Omega. You like coasters, Gil. After it's   
reopened you should go."  
  
Sara eyed the ride. "It looks a little...less than your speed,   
Grissom."  
  
"I don't know. It's in complete darkness, there's a theme. It's hard   
to find coasters like this anymore."  
  
"Right. You're old school." Her smile faded as she looked closer at   
the tracks. "How close together are those rails?"  
  
"Kinda scary, huh? Only looks like you could lose your head. Someone   
lost an arm once, but never decapitated."  
  
"That's comforting."  
  
Crossing the platform, they stepped into a freight elevator and rode   
in silence until it came to a stop near the utility entrance of the   
TTA. The tracks were immediately visible; more so were the   
three test dummies propped lifelessly against the wall. Grissom,   
pleased to be back in his element, walked quickly to the scene.   
Hoisting a dummy over his shoulder, he watched as Sara did   
the same. She adjusted her feet to balance its weight and Steve   
moved to her side. "Let me help you with that."  
  
"Thanks, I'm fine." She stated with a polite smile, taking a step   
away. After walking toward Grissom she lay her dummy next to his and   
started to step to the rails below. Without thinking, Grissom   
grabbed her arm and pulled her back from the edge.  
  
"Steve, is the e-rail powered down?" They needed the trains   
operational for the reenactment; when powered, he knew that the   
strip that ran down the middle of the ride path carried nearly 10000   
volts of electricity.  
  
Looking down for the telltale light and finding none, he   
nodded. "You're clear."  
  
Slanting her eyes nervously at Grissom, Sara hopped down onto the   
beam. Still taking care to avoid the middle rail, she pulled the   
reenactment dummy down after her and bent on one knee. Her   
eyes followed the thin trail of blood and Grissom could see her   
calculating the angles. "I think I got it. The point of impact, at   
least."  
  
He was impressed. "Go on."  
  
Steve had moved up behind her; she raised her voice so he could hear   
as well. "See where the spatter in this area is fine and thin, then   
gets longer and more dense? It's almost like a starburst. If the vic   
was still alive or was moved here within 30 minutes or so of his   
death the impact would create such an effect. Kind of like a splash   
zone." She added, mainly for Steve's benefit.  
  
"What about the blood to the left?" The sheriff motioned to a   
larger, more dense stain.  
  
Sara turned and grabbed her dummy around the shoulders. "See how   
we're on a turn, here? When the train hit his head was forced to the   
side like this." She demonstrated, using her palm to snap the   
plastic skull to the left. "The lateral cut to his face caused the   
blood to pool in that direction; not to mention the slant on the   
tracks to counter-balance the cars kept the body from being pushed   
to the right. He was effectively pinned in place." Frowning, she   
continued. "He didn't have a chance."  
  
Grissom nodded. "I think you're right, but you're talking as if the   
victim was still alive. I've still seen nothing here to indicate   
that."  
  
"He could have been unconscious."  
  
"What about the beetles?"  
  
Shrugging, Sara stretched the dummy across the track. "That's your   
department." She looked up at Steve, who looked back with a   
grin. "Can you start the trains?"  
  
"Sure thing." He left and Sara pulled herself up over the rail. As   
she sat next to Grissom they heard the soft hum as the current   
coursed through the e-rail. They stared at the tracks in a   
companionable silence until Sara spoke again.  
  
"Thanks."  
  
Grissom looked at her, confusion crossing his features. "For what?"  
  
"Bringing me along."  
  
Sitting there, inches from her, he didn't know the best way to   
respond. "You were the right choice for this case."  
  
She stared at him for a moment before looking away, her shoulders   
tensing slightly. Startled, she turned back as the row of blue cars   
appeared in the distance. Her voice had a slight edge as stood and   
moved to the edge of platform.  
  
"According to the ride plan the cars operate at an average of ten   
miles per hour. However, it has to maintain speed on the corners."   
She reached behind her and pulled a folder from the kit that   
had been delivered to the scene earlier. "At four different   
locations the train hits 20. Here, here, here, and here." Pointing   
to four red circles on the layout, she stepped back so Grissom   
could see.  
  
"Our scene is in an impulsion area."  
  
As if to demonstrate, the train increased in speed as it neared the   
turn. Kneeling, Grissom made last minute adjustments to the dummy   
before returning to where Sara stood on the ledge. The floodlit   
frame of Space Mountain made for a surreal backdrop as the front   
car's stabilizing metal wheel made contact with the body's plastic   
head. The initial damage was obscured as the rest of the train   
passed.   
  
Grissom felt the breeze on his face before the train continued into   
the tunnel, its path never diverted. They waited a few moments until   
the panel lights went off and they could no longer hear the noise   
created by the voltage. Watching as Sara eased herself off the   
ledge, he grabbed a camera from the case and followed suit.  
  
"That's quite a nose job." Grissom commented, watching her wince as   
she turned the head toward her. The plastic 'wound' was at first   
sight similar to the one from the victim, the nose essentially gone   
and the eyes appearing detached from the rest of its features.   
Snapping pictures, Grissom circled the dummy while Sara stood, lost   
in thought.  
  
"There were no restraints or ligature marks found on the victim at   
all," she said, after a moment. "The wound is consistent, but if   
Holland had moved at all, it could have saved his life. The   
circumstances had to be just right for that amount of damage to   
occur." She paused. "It doesn't make sense; why would anyone just   
wait to die?"  
  
Grissom said nothing; he knew where Sara was going with this.  
  
"Unless he was unconscious at the time of death." She   
continued. "The e-rail..." She couldn't believe it hadn't occurred   
to her before.  
  
"The coroner didn't mention any burns or charring consistent with   
electrocution."  
  
They heard footsteps as Steve returned. Grinning, his voice was   
almost jarring compared to the earlier quiet. "Looks like I missed   
all the fun."  
  
"There's more where this came from." Grissom handed Sara the   
camera. "I'm going to call the lab in Osceola and ask if there was   
any sign of scorching--see if they can't take another look." Pulling   
out his cell, he glanced at the display and sighed. "Steve, I can't   
get reception in here."  
  
If you take the elevator back down you'll see a house phone next to   
the door we came in through."  
  
"That's the closest?"  
  
"It's the easiest to find." Steve hedged.  
  
Grissom nodded. He looked to Sara, but she had already walked   
several feet in the other direction, her back to them. "Okay." After   
pausing a moment, he turned and disappeared into the dark.  
  
Steve approached Sara as she leaned over her kit, searching through   
the contents for the notes she had taken earlier. Not finding them,   
she slammed the lid and leaned against the wall with a   
frustrated sigh.  
  
"Something wrong, Sara?" He tested.  
  
She had forgotten he was there. Straightening her posture, she gave   
him a polite "No."  
  
Watching her walk back to the ride path, he tried a different   
tack. "There's one thing that bothers me about this scene. The   
trains are programmed to stop when they run into interference.   
Unless the sensor on the front car was damaged, it should have   
stopped long before it hit the vic."  
  
She stared at him a moment before breaking into a small   
smile. "That's it."  
  
"Excuse me?"  
  
She put out a hand to silence him and moved to the front of the   
train. "The sensors," she bent to her knees before continuing, "are   
eighteen inches above the bottom of the base. If Holland had   
been standing or even on his side, the impact probably would never   
had occurred."  
  
"He would have to have been prone."  
  
"Yeah. It would be more consistent with the damage to Holland's   
skull and would be another indication that the body was moved here   
post-mortem." Sara ran a hand through her hair, processing the new   
information. "It would also get us a step closer to explaining the   
bugs and the short spatter." Walking back to the equipment along the   
wall, she looked down the dim passage; she was looking forward to   
sharing the findings with Grissom.  
  
"So, the case is going well." Steve tried to bring her into   
conversation.  
  
"This part of it, at least. We still have to establish the how, the   
why. We only really have the who and the when."  
  
"You sound like Gil." Encouraged by the quick smile she gave in   
response, he took a step toward her. She took a step back.   
Undeterred, he continued. "You two seem to work well together."  
  
"We should; I've worked with him for years." She was confused as to   
where the conversation was heading. Steve was deeply into her   
personal space now.  
  
"He called you to Vegas?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
Stave's face was inscrutable. "And you moved there for him?"  
  
"He was the one that asked; I moved there for a lot of reasons."  
  
"Such as?"  
  
Sara wanted this line of questioning to end; she hoped honesty would   
be a means to that end.   
  
"There was nothing keeping me in California anymore. I saw more   
opportunities in Vegas."  
  
"Professional opportunities?"  
  
So much for honesty. "Yes."  
  
Steve took another hesitant step forward; she could feel his body   
heat now. "So, you and Gil..."  
  
Sara's eyes darkened almost imperceptibly before widening in relief   
as she saw Grissom return.   
  
"Hey, did you talk to the coroner?" She asked, her eyes meeting his   
and seeing something unfamiliar there.  
  
"He said that on the second examination they did find some minor   
discoloration, indicating that the victim either didn't make direct   
contact with the rail or was already deceased."  
  
"Well, Sar and I just figured that part out, didn't we?" Steve's   
voice boomed, interrupting Grissom's next statement. Sara winced as   
she saw irritation cross his features.  
  
"Care to fill me in, Sar?" Grissom put the emphasis on the last   
syllable; his voice held an edge that wasn't there before.  
  
"Yeah." The voice didn't belong to her; it belonged to Steve. He   
relayed the new information and ended with her epiphany about the   
sensors. His voice was aimed at Grissom, but his eyes never   
left Sara.  
  
"Did you take pictures?" Grissom interrupted.  
  
"What? Not yet." Sara hadn't expected praise, but his brusque tone   
was new.  
  
He gestured toward the camera. "Take pictures."  
  
"Don't you want to discuss what I found? This could point the case   
in a new direction."  
  
"I'm sure Steve can fill me in."  
  
She stared at him, her jaw tensed. "Can I talk to you alone for a   
moment?"  
  
Nodding, he followed her until they were out of earshot of Steve.   
Standing against the wall, he waited for her to speak.  
  
"What are you doing?"  
  
"I'm not doing anything," he responded, blandly.  
  
Incredulous, she had to make an effort to keep her voice   
low. "You're treating me like an assistant."  
  
"I asked you to take pictures. That's part of your job." He didn't   
tell her why he had asked.  
  
"So is collecting evidence, but apparently you'd rather hear about   
that from Steve."  
  
"I'm your supervisor; I'd like you to take photos." He was looking   
over her shoulder now.  
  
She shook her head, as if trying to wake from a dream. "I can't   
believe this. It's not about the case at all."  
  
"I have no idea what you're talking about." His voice held a bit of   
artificial smugness, but she saw the uncertainty in his eyes.  
  
Thrusting the camera at his chest, she turned to leave. Stunned,   
Grissom called after her. "You can't leave a scene, Sara."  
  
"It's not a scene, it's a competition."  
  
And then she was gone.   
  
  
--------------------------- 


	6. Chapter Six

Headers, disclaimers in Chapter One  
  
Continued from Chapter Five  
  
IMPORTANT NOTES:   
  
Slight rating change here; this one is rated a strong R for non-  
graphic sexual situations. I am also honored to have a co-author for   
this chapter; that the wonderful Midnight Caller would even be a   
part of my work is very flattering and I thank her for getting the   
Geeks to a new level. I'm so happy to have had the opportunity to   
write with her. She's amazing. When you need RST, go to the best, I   
say. I take responsibility for everything up through the vaguely OOC   
date. The good stuff starts out on the deck. ;-) Thanks, MC, for the   
great ride. Enjoy. -- Devanie  
  
Well, we all know Devanie's lying, first-off, because this story is   
so incredibly awesome that no amount of self-deprecation on her part   
can hide the brilliance of this piece. Devanie, it's an honor to   
have been a part of this epic. If I could conjure up casefiles as   
creative and fascinating as this one, and write such meticulous   
detail, I'd still be half the writer you are. In all sincerity, I   
enjoyed this more than I ever thought I would. Rock on. --   
Midnight Caller  
  
Andi, Amber, Alison, Amanda, and A-Stepf, thanks as always. The   
rocking Alison didn't get a chance to beta this one because of my   
last minute tweaking, but big kudos to her as always.  
  
  
~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*  
  
  
For an irrational moment he thought she was gone.  
  
It wasn't until after he found her case reports strewn across her   
unmade bed that he made his way to the patio off the common area,   
pushing aside the vertical blinds that had blocked his view. Grissom   
squinted in the harsh sunlight; it was only ten, but the temperature   
had to be nearing ninety. Shielding his eyes with his right hand he   
spotted Sara sitting at the edge of the balcony, her feet propped   
against the metal railing. Her hands were folded over a book in her   
lap, but she appeared to stare out over the water from behind her   
sunglasses.  
  
After watching her a few moments, he took a few tentative steps   
before coming to a stop just shy of her chair. "Hey."  
  
"Hey." Her voice was flat and she made no move to look at him.  
  
Grissom remained silent. He watched a sailboat skim across the top   
of the water before resting his eyes back on her. She wore a light   
blue tank top and denim shorts, her bare legs ending in a pair of   
open leather sandals. Somewhere in the back recesses of his mind he   
realized he had never seen her in shorts before, but he pushed that   
thought away in lieu of the more pressing matter before them.  
  
"What are we doing here?"   
  
The sharp edge to her voice caused him to jump slightly. "What?"  
  
"You. Me. What are we doing?" She shifted in her chair, facing him   
now. He couldn't see her eyes, but her body language betrayed her   
agitation.  
  
"We're investigating a crime."  
  
Shaking her head slightly, she clarified. "I'm not talking about the   
case, Grissom."  
  
He shifted his gaze to the pattern in the tile. He had known that,   
but had given the safe answer in hopes of delaying the conversation   
that Sara had just made inevitable. "I'm sorry about last night."  
  
"I know you are." She did. Grissom was honest, almost to a fault. It   
was one of the reasons she was as nervous about this discussion as   
he probably was. "What was that about, anyway?"  
  
Meeting her eyes, he answered. "I don't know."  
  
Regarding him for a few moments, she spoke again. "Everything was   
fine. The case was going well; we…" She looked down at her fingers,   
laced together in her lap. "Then all of a sudden you were treating   
me like an insubordinate lab assistant. I just want to know why."  
  
Grissom said nothing as he watched a sailboat skim across the top of   
the water. Mentally trying to formulate an answer, he was about to   
speak when Sara continued.  
  
"You went to go make that call, came back, talked to Steve…" Sara   
shook her head. "That's it, isn't it? Last night… all that alpha-  
male behavior… was about jealousy?" Her words held a bit of a   
challenge.  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Oh." If she had just played her trump card, Grissom had just dealt   
it back to her. She hadn't expected him to be so straightforward.   
Judging by the conflicted look on his face neither had he.  
  
Her ears buzzing, Sara was faintly aware of the sound of children   
splashing and laughing in the pool below. She stole a glance at   
Grissom; he stared straight ahead, his face unreadable. She wanted   
to say something, to somehow break the tension. Like ripping off a   
band-aid, she thought before she found her voice again. "I'm not   
very good at these kind of conversations." She started, a self-  
conscious smile forming. "And I know you're not..."  
  
"Would you like to go to dinner tonight?" Grissom interrupted, his   
earlier uncertainty now replaced by something a bit more intense.  
  
Meeting his eyes, Sara hesitated. Shared meals were nothing new.   
Grissom asking her, however, was almost unprecedented. There was a   
definite underlying intent to his question; they would likely have   
had dinner together that evening regardless. "Okay." She paused   
before adding: "we need to talk."  
  
"Yeah."   
  
They stared at each other for a few moments; Sara realized they had   
just taken a giant step forward, but didn't know how they had gotten   
there. Looking away, she rose and walked across the balcony to the   
open door. "I'm going to go for a jog on the trail. I'll be back in   
an hour and we can go over some reports."  
  
Grissom nodded. Watching her step into the living room, he called   
after her. "Hey, Sara?"  
  
She turned around, one eyebrow raised.  
  
"I apologize for last night. You did a good job."  
  
"Thanks." After a sincere smile, she stepped into the dim room. He   
watched her through the glass until she was out of his line of   
sight. Returning his gaze forward he noticed the book still lying on   
her empty chair. As he reached for it, he read the title for the   
first time.   
  
The Computational Beauty of Nature : Computer Explorations of   
Fractals, Chaos, Complex Systems, and Adaptation.   
  
With an amused smirk he pulled his glasses out of his pocket and   
opened the large hardcover to the middle. Intrigued, he flipped back   
to the beginning. Now it was a waiting game.  
  
  
Disney's Contemporary Resort  
California Grill, 15th Floor  
19:25 PM  
  
Sara was beautiful; that had never been in question. Whether she was   
in her standard pants and print top or the loose-fitting navy   
coveralls, he had always found her attractive. Now as she walked   
across the floor toward him, he could honestly say he had never seen   
her look quite the way she did right at that moment. A pair of slim   
fitting black pants with a slight flare to the legs was set off by a   
cranberry colored top, the loose neck and filmy material elegant as   
part of the nearly backless garment. Her hair was piled loosely on   
top of her head and he could tell she was wearing slightly more   
makeup than usual. His eyes caught hers and she smiled as she walked   
through the maze of tables toward where he was seated against the   
glass; it extended 180 degrees around the perimeter. Thinking   
quickly, he stood as she approached and pulled out her chair; she   
smiled nervously as he crossed back to his side of the table.  
  
"Hi." Grissom began, once they were both seated.   
  
"Hi." She echoed. It was already feeling a bit surreal.  
  
"I take it you found my note?"  
  
"Yeah. Meet me upstairs, 7:30, wear something nice."  
  
Whatever she was wearing certainly qualified. "You look very…"  
  
"Nice? Thanks." She replied, giving him a self-conscious smile. "So   
do you." She added quickly.  
  
He looked down at his black dress shirt and felt almost   
underdressed. "You didn't pack that." It was a statement more than a   
question and Sara laughed softly.  
  
"No, lucky for you there's a store in this resort that sells   
something other than Mickey t-shirts."  
  
"Is that the store the dead guy fell on?" Grissom wore an earnest   
expression.  
  
"I don't think he was dead before he fell and no. I asked."  
  
He eyed her skeptically. "You didn't."  
  
She merely tilted her head before taking a sip of her wine. Looking   
around the dining room, she commented, "It's beautiful up here."  
  
Nodding, Grissom took in the expanse of water and trees that framed   
the view from his vantage point. "Raymond recommended it."  
  
She nodded and nervously traced a finger around the rim of her wine   
glass. Hearing a soft laugh, she looked up to find him smirking at   
her.  
  
"What? This is a little strange." She justified, her voice defensive   
but her eyes light.  
  
"How so? We have dinner all the time."  
  
"No, usually dinner includes food in baskets, pick-up windows, and   
Nick playing paper football with Warrick. I don't recall many times   
involving alcohol, napkin rings, or seasonal menus."  
  
Grissom shrugged, his face inscrutable. "Speaking of which, what did   
you want to start with?" He gestured toward the menu in front of her.  
  
Looking at it for the first time, Sara blinked back a reaction to   
the prices. Disney was apparently going all out. "Artichokes   
vinaigrette with parmesan flats and black olive coulis?"  
  
He looked skeptical. "Coulis?"  
  
"I have no idea either."  
  
"Okay."  
  
Their server returned with a basket of bread and Grissom ordered   
the appetizer. Sara reached for a roll and frowned at the small cup   
of butter.  
  
"I'm guessing the mouse sculpture doesn't fit in with the ambience   
here." He read her expression.  
  
"That's too bad."  
  
"I could have taken you to Chef Mickey's. They have a cupcake bar."  
  
"We still have three days." She paused. "I used to hate cupcakes. I   
had a trauma once."  
  
Grissom stared. "A cupcake trauma?"  
  
"It was my tenth birthday. My first party with friends from my new   
school. My mom had insisted on making me wear a dress. First and   
only time. Anyway, I had a crush on a boy from my class; his name   
was Andrew. We did our science project together."  
  
"I'm not surprised."  
  
She smiled. "Yeah, well. He asked me to sit with him and I was   
happy. At least until he reached over and smushed my chocolate   
cupcake into my hair."  
  
Grissom was surprised by the sympathy he felt for her 21 years later.  
  
"All the kids laughed and it took my mom almost an hour to wash all   
the icing out of my braids. I didn't eat another one until the   
Christmas party last year."  
  
"I'm sorry," he said lamely.   
  
Sara laughed and then took another bite of her roll. "I don't know   
why I still remember that."  
  
"Childrens' memories often are more vivid than adults. Especially   
those involving pain or embarrassment. "  
  
"Ah." She watched the light from the low candle on the edge of the   
table flicker across his features. "Do you have any persisting   
childhood memories?"  
  
"None worth sharing."  
  
Sighing, Sara sat back in her chair. "I find that hard to believe."   
She eyed him skeptically until she continued. "Roller coasters. Did   
you like them as a kid?"  
  
"Actually, no. The first one I rode was in a physics experiment my   
senior year of high school. My interest in them started from that."  
  
"Do you enjoy them at all?" Sara asked, intrigued.  
  
"Yes." He paused a moment. "Actually, probably not in the   
traditional way. Most people ride roller coasters for the rush, the   
euphoria element. With a few exceptions..." Giving her a pointed   
look, he continued "there's nothing like that. I ride because I find   
it relaxing. I can detach myself from the experience and concentrate   
on the science of it."  
  
"That's almost disturbing." Sara's voice was light. "I don't think I   
could ever give up that much control."  
  
Grissom shrugged and looked up as their appetizer arrived. "So, this   
is coulis." After they were alone again he gestured toward a thick   
black paste.  
  
"I'm thinking." Sara spooned the artichoke spread onto a piece of   
flatbread. "You can have my half."  
  
"I was about to make the same offer."  
  
"I insist."  
  
"They ate in silence for several minutes, the only interruption came   
from a server bringing more wine. "So, any ideas about the main   
course?" Grissom asked, his attention on the menu again.  
  
"I think I'm going to have the pan-roasted black grouper." She   
watched as he looked up, confused.  
  
"I eat fish."  
  
"Okay."  
  
"What about you?" She prompted when he didn't continue.  
  
"Oh. The 'Oak-roasted chicken under a summer spinach salad.'"  
  
"That sounds like a girly dish."  
  
Did he hear her correctly? "What?"  
  
"Just saying."  
  
"I'm getting it." Grissom sounded almost wounded.  
  
"And there's nothing wrong with that." Smiling, she took a long sip   
of wine. Their eyes met for a long moment before the reappearance of   
their server broke the silence. After placing their orders, they   
moved to another topic.  
  
"Did you talk to Catherine today?"  
  
"No, but Nick called for you during your run." Grissom looked   
amused; she took a guess.  
  
"It wasn't about work, was it?"  
  
Shaking his head, he laughed. "He managed to ask a vague question   
about his robbery case."  
  
"He wants us to bring him back something." She stated, matter-of-  
fact.  
  
"Any suggestions?"  
  
"I'll think of something. You know, I almost miss them. When I first   
came to Vegas I never thought that would happen."  
  
Grissom nodded. It had been a bad time for everyone. "I'm sorry I   
had to bring you in under those circumstances. Warrick was in a bad   
situation and Catherine felt guilty...They viewed you as an intruder   
and my introduction of you didn't help matters."  
  
He had her attention now. "How did you introduce me?"  
  
Staring at her, he wiped his mouth before speaking. "I said you were   
a friend. Someone that I trusted...trust."  
  
Thank you." Smiling broadly, she spoke again. "I think Catherine had   
her own ideas, though."  
  
He looked down at the candle and watched as a pool of wax formed   
around the bottom of the glass. "I'm sure she did."  
  
"Do you ever wonder..." She trailed off and simply looked at him.   
Feeling her gaze, he searched for a response. He considered changing   
the subject, but opted for the truth.  
  
"All the time."  
  
She smoothed the tablecloth with her hand, her eyes revealed   
nothing. "'So many unanswered whys...'"  
  
Suddenly Grissom was reminded of a night very much like this one.   
Instead of an expensive restaurant it was a cheap diner. Instead of   
Orlando it was a crowded section of San Francisco. It was the night   
before he left for Las Vegas, and they were at a similar crossroads   
in their relationship. He thought they had made the right turn back   
then, just as he thought they were on the brink of making the right   
turn now. "Do you remember Ed's?"   
  
"How could I forget Ed's? That place was horrible. Bad food, not   
particularly clean..."  
  
"You never seemed to mind." Grissom's voice seemed lower now.  
  
"It was the best part of my week." They had started going to the   
small restaurant the day of the seminar and had met there each   
subsequent Friday. Sara had never asked why she was different than   
the more than 100 attendees that day, what had prompted him to   
approach her after class. He had never told her.  
  
Neither had noticed that their entrees had reached the table. After   
pouring them each a second glass of wine, the server left them alone   
with their food.  
  
"The presentation here is fantastic."  
  
"It is."  
  
"Your food doesn't look nearly as girly as it sounded on the menu."  
  
"Thanks. Neither does yours." He offered. This was a bizarre   
conversation.  
  
Sara laughed and looked down at her plate. "I don't think I've ever   
had such...artistic...seafood before.  
  
"Why do you eat fish?" He was genuinely curious.  
  
Sara considered for a moment. "I've never stayed up watching flies   
devouring a grouper."  
  
"You've never watched them eat a cow before, but you don't eat beef."  
  
"Fish don't have legs."  
  
He frowned at her odd logic, but decided to move on. "Okay." They   
ate in silence for several minutes, the only sound coming from the   
open kitchen and the conversation of other diners. Picking at his   
own food, Grissom found himself lost in thought. He stared,   
unseeing, at the table in front of him until Sara broke his reverie.  
  
"Did you want some?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"Some grouper. It's really good." She cut off a tender piece of the   
white fish and offered her fork to him.  
  
He shook his head. "Thanks, though."  
  
"I insist."  
  
Staring at her for a moment, he reached for the utensil and brought   
it to his lips. The flaky seafood was spicy on his tongue. "That is   
good. Is that chipotle?"  
  
"Sure." She smiled, taking her fork back.  
  
"Do you cook at all?"  
  
Mock-wounded, she thought a moment before responding. "I can cook. I   
just don't have many opportunities to use something called chipotle   
in my daily routine. I take it you do?"  
  
"You don't need a special occasion to use spices, Sara." He waited a   
moment before adding "You should come over more often. I'll   
introduce you to some of these things." Her laugh in response   
startled him.  
  
"More often? I think I can count on...one finger...the number of   
times I've been to your apartment in the last year."  
  
He looked almost embarrassed. "I don't tend to have people over very   
much."  
  
"Why does Catherine get the priviledge?"  
  
Because Catherine doesn't make me feel the way you do. "Habit borne   
out of an old friendship. We just never got into that routine."  
  
Smiling ruefully, she looked at the table again. "Yeah."  
  
"That doesn't mean we shouldn't start now." The words came out   
before he process what he was saying.   
  
"As a 'habit borne out of an old friendship'?"  
  
"Maybe as a habit borne out of something stemming from an old   
friendship."  
  
Sara had grown accustomed to Grissom's more cryptic comments over   
the years, but something this significant warranted clarification.   
She noticed for the first time that her hands were clammy. "We've   
been here before."  
  
Nodding, he didn't offer a response until the silence felt   
heavy. "We have, but the timing is different now. I'm not moving;   
you're not in grad school."  
  
She had been waiting to have this conversation with him for as long   
as she could remember. Why was she playing devil's advocate   
now? "You're my supervisor. Is that any less of a problem?"  
  
"It's a surmountable one."  
  
Staring at him, Sara wondered again when their roles had become   
reversed. "Discretion."  
  
"We operate just like we have." He watched as she tapped her fingers   
against the edge of the table between them and wondered if her   
nerves compared to his own. Reaching for her hand, he squeezed   
lightly until her fingers relaxed in his grasp.  
  
A brightly colored flare reflecting off the bay window in front of   
their table caught Sara's attention. She looked down at her hand in   
Grissom's, his thumb running over her knuckles lightly. After   
thinking a moment, she rose to her feet. Seeing his surprise, she   
shook her head. "Fireworks. I want to watch."  
  
"Oh." He followed her as she pulled him gently across the dining   
room and out onto the observation deck. The night was warm, but a   
breeze took the edge off the cloying heat of earlier. Heading across   
the deck, they found an empty spot against the barrier as another   
loud burst of light spread over the darkened visage of Cinderella   
Castle.  
  
She leaned on the wall and had to catch her breath as she tried to   
drink in the view before her. Grissom released her hand and brushed   
her arm as he took up position next to her. Suddenly, the air was   
alive with lights, bursting and flashing out toward the horizon.   
  
She shifted to her right and pressed against his body just firmly   
enough to feel his warmth through her clothing. As she continued to   
gaze out at the fireworks she felt skin against her left arm. Out   
of the corner of her eye she saw his hand resting on the wall, and   
only then did she feel the rest of his arm pressed against her   
back. She leaned against him again, and then felt his hand move up   
and down her arm, lightly grazing the skin with his fingers.   
  
Almost instinctively, she tilted her head, resting it on his   
shoulder. A few moments later, as his touch continued to coax goose   
bumps from the surface of her skin, she swallowed hard before   
wrapping her own arm around his waist. She paused for a moment,   
perhaps waiting for common sense to tell her to stop, and then   
slowly slid the tips of her fingers into the very top of his   
pocket.   
  
The fireworks continued to explode as she finally noticed how fast   
her heart was beating with each passing moment. Every time his   
fingers touched her skin she nearly shivered from sheer excitement.   
There seemed to be a goose bump for every emotion. Curiosity.   
Anticipation. Desire.   
  
She was barely cognizant of her actions as somehow her mouth found   
his neck. With each inhale, his scent possessed her, traversing the   
length of her entire body until it returned to that reserved spot in   
her memory set aside just for him. As she exhaled, the warmed air   
caressed his skin, and she heard his breath quicken. Within moments   
she had moved closer, lightly pressing her lips to the soft skin   
where his neck met his shoulder. She felt him shudder slightly, his   
breath coming in short, quiet gasps. The hand that had been   
caressing her suddenly stopped, the fingers wrapping around her   
arm.   
  
His breaths got more audible as her lips slowly made her way up to   
the bottom of his chin, stopping just below his earlobe. She spent   
a few brief moments teasing his skin with her breath, enjoying the   
gasp she finally drew from him. Slipping her hand out of his   
pocket, she turned her body toward him to get a more comfortable   
angle, and eventually stepped around to face him. His eyes were   
still closed, out of fear, or pleasure, or both, and she slid her   
arms under his, interlacing her fingers behind his back.   
  
She found his neck again, this time zeroing in on the hollow between   
his collarbones. The tiny depression throbbed slightly as blood   
pumped beneath the skin, the pulse increasing under the pressure of   
her lips. His hands were warm on her skin, moving up the length of   
her arms and then down the graceful curvature of her spine.   
  
She pulled her lips from his neck to catch the breath that was   
quickly sliding away, along with every inhibition she had harbored   
when it came to physical contact with Grissom. That intense gaze   
was focused on her head - she could feel it bearing down - and when   
she finally looked up, the sight of him was almost too much to   
take. His eyes were as wide as she'd ever seen them, alive with an   
undeniable hunger.   
  
The line had been drawn, and it had just been crossed. Whether or   
not they could ever go back weighed on their next move. And for the   
first time that night she was afraid to make it.   
  
Despite the wall pressed against her back, she unconsciously shifted   
away from him, looking away as she did so. Her face felt flush with   
an unnamable form of embarrassment, and she released her arms from   
around his back. His hands paused at her shoulders, waiting. She   
knew he was staring at her, but she refused to look, afraid of what   
she'd see.   
  
Whether it was fear or guilt or something else equally paralyzing,   
an unseen force had prevented her from taking that next step. And   
yet, at the same time, in some unexplainable way, the feel of his   
hands on her skin was so comforting and soothing that she wanted   
nothing more than to lean forward and press her body against his.   
  
As if he had somehow read her thoughts, he stepped forward, pinning   
her against the wall. His hand moved slowly, tenderly, from her   
shoulder down to her wrist, where he stopped to rub his thumb over   
her skin. She shivered at the touch, biting her lip as her head   
involuntarily tipped backward. Somewhere in her mind, she   
registered his hand on hers, the fingers caressing the skin before   
wrapping around her own. When she felt a gentle squeeze, her eyes   
crept open wide enough for her to see his head coming down toward   
her. The lids closed again as the warm air of his breath teased her   
neck, and they squeezed tight when his lips finally touched her   
skin.   
  
She couldn't help but release an audible sigh, and her free hand   
found its way to his head, where she scraped her nails along the   
back of his neck. She wasn't sure if the rapid popping she heard   
was her heartbeat or the faint clapping of the fireworks' finale.   
Nothing was certain at the moment; she was still trying to convince   
herself of what was happening.   
  
After lightly teasing her neck for a number of minutes, Grissom   
moved to her ear, where his breath was enough to elicit a small gasp   
from her. He stayed just long enough to entice several more short   
pants of air, and then moved his face directly in front of hers.   
She finally opened her eyes, and there was nowhere to look but right   
at him. Somehow his eyes removed the uncertainty, the doubt, and   
somewhere deeper inside the pang of regret transformed into the   
exhilaration of arousal.   
  
Her eyes closed again as she felt him move closer, until finally his   
lips brushed teasingly against hers, floating just far enough away   
to drive her mad with curiosity. When there was no deeper kiss to   
follow, she opened her eyes and saw his, still shut.   
  
After a moment his hand squeezed hers again, and he stepped back a   
few feet. When their eyes met he tugged at her arm gently, and she   
followed him as they slowly walked back through the restaurant,   
returning eventually to the elevators. Without a word, he pressed   
the down button and readjusted the grip on her hand. She was half-  
stunned, half-giddy, and bit her lower lip as they stepped in the   
elevator and he pressed their floor button. They rode in silence,   
hand-in-hand, their eyes stealing brief glances during the short   
ride.  
  
He fumbled slightly with the card key, distracted by Sara's intense   
stare. They both stepped into the darkness of the room, the door   
quietly clicking shut behind them. For a few moments their eyes   
adjusted to the dark, their breathing the only other noticeable   
sound besides the quiet hum of the air conditioner. He smacked his   
lips quietly in hesitation, the earlier bravado apparently drained   
from his body. Sara was intently focused on him, her eyes darting   
across his face, searching for clues, signs, an invitation.   
  
She squeezed his hand again, which brought his eyes back up from the   
carpet, and then took a step forward to stand only inches away. Her   
pulse now on overdrive, she strained to keep her breathing steady,   
but the heat coming off of him was making it difficult, especially   
when she felt his other hand on her back. It wandered between her   
shoulder blades, searching for all those places that would make her   
arch this way or that, lean into him more, or open her mouth to a   
quiet moan.   
  
The moan came when he reached the base of her skull, running his   
hands through the soft hair at her neck, and she instinctively   
leaned forward into his body. Letting go of his hand, she wrapped   
her arms around his waist, and he did the same to her. She rested   
her head against his shoulder as they continued their mutual   
exploration, their nerve endings working at full capacity.   
  
After what seemed like an eternity she lifted her head to look at   
him. In the blue glow of the room his eyes glistened, and he   
somehow managed to look perplexed, intrigued and aroused, all   
simultaneously with the same degree of emotion. This made her smile   
and she leaned forward, bringing their faces closer.   
  
She wasn't sure who moved first, but in one fluid motion their lips   
met, chastely at first, as they silently tested the boundaries of   
their actions. His hand crept further into her hair as the contact   
intensified, gracefully morphing into a rhythmic, elegant kiss.   
  
What followed seemed to unfold just as surrealistically, as they   
slowly made their way into Sara's room. The awkwardness evened out   
between them as they crossed the carpet, still unable to let go of   
one another. Her eyes relieved his hesitation, his warmth eased her   
nervous shivers, and their mutual caresses reassured their anxiety.   
  
They fell onto the soft cushion of her bed, and he was immediately   
overwhelmed by the scent of her all around him. The sheets, the   
pillow … her body … everything seemed cocooned around him,   
enveloping all of his senses, all at once.   
  
They continued in their illusory state, neither one able to process   
the individual events or desires. Skin against skin. Hands and   
mouths. Bodies feverishly tangled together, sensations ebbing and   
flowing in a tide of emotion and electricity. And then, finally,   
everything focused down to a single, solitary moment, only to be   
scattered just as quickly by the overpowering exchange of thousands   
of nerve impulses and the release of blind ecstasy.   
  
They fell against the pillows, their gasps eventually slowing to   
steady, deep breaths. He felt her hair slide across his cheeks as   
her head came to rest on the soft skin of his shoulder. His index   
finger made slow, circular trails where her shoulder met her   
collarbone, and his eyes slipped shut as he felt himself on the   
brink of slumber.   
  
She turned onto her side, draping her arm over his chest. Her eyes   
felt heavy as the weight of exhaustion tugged at the lids,   
eventually pulling them shut. She nuzzled against his chest, loving   
the feel of his skin against hers. All sensory imput diminished as   
she drifted off, until all she could process was his hand on her   
shoulder and the comforting, steady sound of his breathing.  
  
  
TBC 


	7. Chapter Seven

Continued from Chapter Six  
  
Headers, disclaimers in Chapter One.  
  
Previous chapters can be found at:  
  
http://www.grissomandsara.com/fanfic/dustcoverpages/magic.htm  
  
  
  
  
~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*  
  
  
  
Grissom wasn't sure if it was the knock at the door or Sara's   
measured breathing next to his ear that woke him up first; only the   
first scenario was an annoyance as he dressed quickly, his mind   
still fuzzy from sleep. He bent and planted a kiss in her hair, but   
she didn't stir; he had found her sleeping in the break room enough   
to know that it took a lot to wake her up once she was out. Now as   
he turned to leave her face was still burrowed into the pillow, her   
bare shoulders just visible under the tangle of white sheets.  
  
Still somewhat disoriented, he crossed the living room to the double   
doors; the knocking increased in intensity as he approached.   
Blinking back confusion, he greeted the man on the other   
side. "Steve."  
  
"Gil." He paused for a moment, taking in Grissom's uncombed hair and   
missing glasses. "Did I wake you?"  
  
"Yes." He had no time or will to come up with a tactful response.  
  
"Yeah, sorry about that." Steve just stood there now, his eyes   
roving around the room behind Grissom.  
  
"Steve?"  
  
"Yeah. Anyway, I need your report from the other night. Did you   
guys get a chance to type it up?"  
  
As he rubbed a hand across his eyes the events of the previous day   
came flooding back. "Sara finished those up yesterday afternoon. Let   
me go grab them from my room."  
  
"Thanks."  
  
Waving a hand in dismissal, Grissom disappeared into his bedroom for   
a few moments and reemerged with a blue file folder. He handed it to   
Steve. "It should all be in here."  
  
With a nod, Steve took the paperwork and scanned through the first   
several pages. He stopped in the middle, his brow furrowed. "Is this   
English?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"The blood spatter analysis. It looks like it's in code."  
  
Oops. "That's probably because it is. Sara tends to use shorthand,   
which is fine when I'm the one consolidating the reports…" He   
grabbed the folder. "She probably just didn't think. It took me the   
better part of two years to understand her language." Looking at the   
forms, he realized all the letters were a blur. "I need my glasses."  
  
"I'll wait."  
  
He was almost to his door before he realized his glasses wouldn't be   
there. As casually as possible he walked along the wall of windows   
to Sara's room. He was sure that wasn't lost on Steve; he wished he   
hadn't identified his own room earlier. Opening the door gently, he   
was careful not to wake Sara as he took his glasses from the bedside   
table. A surreal feeling washed over him as he saw her shift   
slightly in her sleep. Just a day ago he would have found this   
entire scenario improbable at best; he wished he could stand there   
and contemplate it, but he could already feel Steve's glib   
expression through the wall.  
  
He was sitting on the couch as Grissom came back into the main area,   
his crossed feet on the coffee table.  
  
"Making yourself at home?" He asked as he put his glasses on.  
  
"You know it." Steve looked positively amused now; Grissom had the   
irrational urge to hit him with the folder he had just been   
handed. "It's page six."  
  
Flipping through the report, Grissom immediately saw the source of   
confusion. "l O-sp ptn rad 115 wd--13in" He read the letter and   
number sequence aloud. "Translated, that would read `long oval   
spatter pattern radiating 115 degrees from the wound; the farthest   
sample of blood was 13 inches from the impact."  
  
"If you say so." Steve tossed back affably.  
  
Grissom shrugged. "We'll get you a new copy."  
  
"The other reason for my visit...you had said you were going bug   
hunting today, right?"  
  
"Not in those words exactly, but yes." He didn't know why Steve's   
visit was irritating him as much as it was.  
  
"Well. this is a list of every area on property that Disney   
horticulturists have reported infestations of Black Turpentine   
beetles in the last ninety days. I've highlighted all the Magic   
Kingdom resort areas."  
  
"Thanks. That will be very helpful."  
  
"Yeah."  
  
Both men turned around to find Sara leaning against the door frame;   
she was dressed in shorts and an oversized t-shirt. From the   
distance Grissom thought it might be one of his, but he couldn't be   
sure. Approaching him, she pulled her lank hair back into a ponytail   
and squinted into the morning sun. "Morning."  
  
"Morning." He gave her a smile and sent her a message with his eyes.   
She grinned in return.  
  
"Hi, Steve."  
  
"Hey." Looking anywhere but at her, now he seemed to find the edge   
of the table fascinating.  
  
Grissom broke the awkward silence. "Looks like a long day ahead of   
us. Lots of area to cover."  
  
Looking up, Steve shook his head. "Most of it's a short walk or   
monorail trip away. To get to Fort Wilderness you'll have to take to   
take the boat out back there." He gestured in the direction of the   
glass doors and continued. "You might want to do that first; they're   
predicting a seventy percent chance of storms."  
  
Sara looked skeptical. "It's sunny."  
  
"It's Florida." Steve shrugged and then stood, stretching. "I better   
get going." He was halfway to the door when he turned toward   
him. "No more encrypted case reports, you two." The door clicked   
behind him as he left.  
  
"Encrypted case reports?" Sara had moved closer.  
  
"He had a little trouble following your...report format."   
  
Her hands were on his hips now. "You never seem to have a problem."  
  
Grissom wondered if it was a good time to tell her that he still   
didn't get some of her abbreviations. "Not everyone can be as astute   
as I can."  
  
Running her hands up along his side, she pressed her lips against   
the corner of his mouth. "Apparently not. I'm going to go finish   
getting dressed so we can go."  
"Okay." He caught her hand as she walked back toward the room they'd   
shared and pulled her in for another kiss, longer this time. "I'm   
sorry about this morning."  
  
"Don't be." She practically chirped. "We get to go catch bugs."  
  
Smiling at her back, Grissom followed, wondering how this trip could   
get any more interesting.  
  
  
Disney's Contemporary Resort  
Marina  
9:35 AM  
  
  
Clouds had moved in by the time they had reached the boat dock; a   
light wind had picked up and was rocking the small vessel they were   
about to board. The sun was still oppressive, though, and Sara   
didn't regret the shorts and tank top she had chosen. Reaching out   
with her left hand, she trailed her fingers lightly down Grissom's   
outer hip. "You should have worn shorts. This heat is unbearable."  
  
"I hardly ever wear shorts."  
  
"Why is that?" She found herself with even more questions about him   
now.  
  
He shrugged as they stepped into the boat, the floor shifting   
beneath them as they made their way into the back. Sara took a seat   
in the corner, her back against the wooden rail and her feet drawn   
up onto the bench. Grissom sat the kit they were sharing on the   
floor and faced the front of the boat, watching as the captain   
started the engine. Neither spoke until the marina was several   
hundred feet behind them.  
  
Nudging him with her sandal-clad toes, Sara started. "I never did   
get to thank you for dinner last night. I had a good time."  
  
Grissom laughed softly. "I'm glad. I think it was more of a team   
effort, though."  
  
"Team effort makes it sound so work related." Sara grinned, relieved   
that things didn't seem to be awkward. "Are there performance   
evaluations?"  
  
"Outstandings, but you get a definite Needs Improvement in appetizer   
selection."  
  
"Last time it was prioritizing."  
  
He picked at the leather strap on one of her sandals, noticing the   
shell pink polish on her toes. It surprised him. "That's definitely   
improved."  
  
"Good." Sara looked out over the water, seeing whitecaps for the   
first time. "Wow, the wind's really picked up."  
  
"Yeah." The boat was really rocking now. "Maybe we should have   
waited and checked out the park locations first."  
  
"There's still some sun. Probably better that we rule the farthest   
locations out first. Besides, we can`t look conspicuous in front of   
the guests...they want us to save the park location stuff until   
after close."  
  
"We won't be out here long. I doubt the vic was killed across the   
lake from the crime scene."  
  
"Then why are we going?" This was like any other case related   
conversation she and Grissom had shared, but this was the first   
where his fingers were drawing tiny circles on her shin.  
  
"Like you said, to rule it out. It also helps me to establish a   
timeline if I see two different samples of beetle galleries. To be   
honest, I'm pretty unfamiliar with this species. I haven't had a   
whole lot of experience with them this far south. It's almost   
exclusive to Florida."  
  
"Galleries?"   
  
He nodded. "Sorry. The pine beetles create egg galleries in trees   
that have undergone some kind of stress, like from lightning strikes   
or drought. They can completely overwhelm the tree; I've seen them   
as large as eighteen inches across."  
  
"They kill the trees?"  
  
"The weaker ones." He conceded.  
  
"I'm surprised Disney hasn't eradicated them before, if they're such   
a pest." As soon as the words left Sara's mouth she knew what was   
coming.  
  
"They serve their purpose, Sara. Trees, like animals, can become   
overpopulated. They starve surrounding trees and the soil of the   
nutrients they need. The beetles help solve that problem. They're   
vital." About to continue, he trailed off as he saw Sara looking   
studiously at the canvas ceiling. "We're here."  
  
Bringing her attention back forward, she saw they were approaching a   
dock surrounded by dense trees. The captain announced it as Fort   
Wilderness and they both stood, gripping the side rails until the   
boat first bounced, then came to a rest next to the small pier.   
Grissom disembarked first and then put a hand back for Sara as she   
stepped gingerly over the two foot gap between the bow and the deck.   
He didn't let go for several yards; when he finally let go they   
walked down the gravel trail, their fingers touching occasionally.   
They saw several cabins in the distance. Fort Wilderness was a   
campground, they knew from the information they had been given. It   
bordered a small water park that had recently closed. "Did Steve say   
where to go once we got here?"  
  
He read the directions. "Off the dock and to the right. That will   
take us to...River Country."  
  
Speaking of the water park. "Are the trees we need in there?"  
  
"That's where the horticulturists reported the infestations. Do you   
have your ID?"  
  
Patting down her pockets, she found the card and hung it around her   
neck as they walked through an unlocked wooden turnstile. "Doesn't   
look like anyone is ready to check. This is kind of creepy."  
  
It did. "It's been closed for a couple years now, I guess."  
  
Dense undergrowth surrounded the skeletons of condemned water   
slides; the few concrete pools were drained and covered in a thin   
layer of silt. Buoys rolling on the lake marked where the approved   
swimming areas used to be; now they just roped off an in descript   
area of dark water.  
  
Grissom continued. "You see those trees?" He pointed to a row of   
tall Florida pines.  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"That's where we're heading."  
  
"Steve didn't tell us we'd need hiking boots." She eyed the rock   
facade in front of them warily. The trees he had pointed out were at   
the entrance of one of the longer "natural" slides. "Where are the   
stairs?"  
  
Scanning the area, Grissom was the first to find them. After 300   
stone steps--Sara had counted--they reached the top of the   
structure. Sliding over the iron rail, they stood in front of one of   
the larger pines. "So, what are we looking for?" They all looked the   
same to her.  
  
"We're examining the area between three and eight feet." He pulled   
pair of magnifying lenses out of the kit that now lay between them,   
handing one to Sara. "Look for holes an eighth to a quarter inch in   
the outer bark and note any discolorations you find. I'd ask you to   
take pictures, but that didn't go over too well the last time." He   
said casually, not looking up from the tree in front of him.  
  
Rolling her eyes, she smiled almost beatifically. "We've discussed   
that. This tree looks fine." As she moved on to the next, a loud   
clap of thunder startled them both. "Where the hell did that come   
from?" Sara turned and watched the sky as another bolt illuminated   
the darkening sky, closer this time.  
  
"The storm moved in fast. Another byproduct of the humidity. We   
should find some shelter; apparently they shut the boats down in   
thunderstorms."  
  
Sara grabbed the kit and took the stairs two at a time, Grissom   
following at a slightly slower pace. Out of breath, they reached the   
bottom of the stairs just as the downpour began. Searching   
frantically with her eyes, she grabbed Grissom's arm and dragged him   
after her under an outcropping of faux stone thirty yards away. He   
sat down heavily against the stucco, pulling her down next to him by   
the wrist. Sliding down the wall, Sara flipped her damp hair back   
from her face and turned toward him. "That was fun." Another crack   
of lightning split the sky. "I forgot how intense these can be."  
  
"Did you get a lot of thunderstorms in Boston?"  
  
"Some. They're not as bad as these, though. I spent one of my spring   
breaks down here; never left the hotel room. It stormed constantly."  
  
Grissom wondered who she spent that spring break with, but pushed   
the thought out of his mind as quickly as it had come. "That's too   
bad."  
  
"I love the rain, though. At least in a non-professional capacity,"   
she smiled. "It's one of the things I miss about San Francisco."  
  
"Rain is stuck on nature's treadmill."  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"Well, it comes down...then evaporates. Goes back up, comes back   
down."  
  
"Oh." Sara searched for a fitting response; finding none, she just   
stared out at the rain, the water forming an opaque wall between   
them and their surroundings. The wind blew through the tunnel and   
the air felt cool against her bare shoulders. She leaned into   
Grissom, partly for warmth, but mostly because she could now. "So,   
what's next?" She looked down at her feet almost shyly.  
  
He eyed her. "We wait for this storm to pass."  
  
Shaking her head, she picked at a loose thread on her shorts. "I   
mean, when we get back to Vegas. What happens then? This was   
pretty... sudden. I know I wasn't expecting it."  
  
"I was."  
  
She turned her head quickly, wet tendrils of hair hitting Grissom's   
cheek. "You were?"  
  
Taking in her startled expression, he clarified. "Let me rephrase. I   
didn't bring you in on this case for...this." He waved a hand   
between the two of them. "I assigned you because I truly felt you   
were the best fit for the investigation."  
  
"But..."  
  
"But...in retrospect I wanted to spend more time... To see if things   
changed outside of the lab."  
  
She was finding it hard to meet his eyes. "Did they?"  
  
"The last two years, I had told myself that I was   
just...intellectually...attracted to you. What I mean is, I just   
wasn't ready to be in a relationship, especially with you."  
  
"I'll try not to be offended."  
  
"Take it as a compliment." He didn't elaborate.  
  
"Okay. So what changed?"  
  
"Nothing changed. I just adapted." He stated, his inflection not   
changing.  
  
She met his eyes for the first time in several minutes and smiled;   
he mirrored her expression before kissing her softly. Drawing back   
first, an indefinable look crossed her features.  
  
"What?" Grissom noticed the mood change.  
  
"Are we going to tell the others? And what if Ecklie and Mobley find   
out? I don't want work to change."  
  
"As far as the team, we'll play that by ear. We don't have to   
broadcast it, but it doesn't have to be a covert operation, either."  
  
"And Mobley?"  
  
Grissom searched the recesses of his mind for something befitting   
his status of leader, but came up short. "What Mobley doesn't know   
won't hurt him."  
  
Laughing nervously, Sara brushed some white sand off of his   
pants. "That's not very scientific of you." She paused. "Speaking of   
scientific, those trees were a wash."  
  
"Well, like I said, I didn't think they'd show us anything. The   
logistics with transporting a body unseen..."  
  
She nodded. "You think the murder was committed in the park. What   
about the guests? Thousands of people didn`t see anything?"  
  
"What's the shortest distance between two objects?" He asked in   
response.  
  
Humoring him, she responded in an obvious tone. "A straight line."  
"If you killed someone in one part of the park...say, one with pine   
trees...and the drop point was nearly a mile away taking the guest   
route, would you take an alternate route if one were available to   
you?"  
  
"If it's the only path open to guests..." She stared at him. "Maybe   
it wasn't a guest. The Utilidor!"  
  
He smiled. "It links all seven areas of the parks."  
  
"But you saw that place. It was almost as busy under there as it is   
upstairs."  
  
Nodding, Grissom watched as the rain slowed. "Steve told us you   
can't bring anything larger than a stroller or a backpack into any   
of the guest areas. How would you transport a body, dead or just   
unconscious, through three sections of park?"  
  
"Three? Do you think you know where this happened?" That was new to   
her; she didn't even know what the `this' she spoke of was.  
  
He reached behind them and pulled a printout from the kit. "Tom   
Sawyer's Island. It's the only area of the Magic Kingdom where a   
Black Turpentine beetle infestation was reported in the last year."  
  
Sara laughed, the sound seemingly disproportionately loud now that   
the rain had stopped. She took in Grissom's blank look and shook her   
head. "Does it seem at all odd to you that we're investigating what   
is an apparently brutal murder on `Tom Sawyer's Island?"   
  
"Has anything on this trip not seemed odd to you, Sara?"  
  
"Touche." She tapped her fingers against the black fabric on his   
knee as they sat in silence, neither one ready to move.   
  
Placing a hand over hers, Grissom jumped when she pulled it   
away. "What?" He asked, confused.  
  
"You know that black fiber you found the first night? It was nylon."   
She stood quickly, clearly excited.  
  
"Yeah. That could be from any number of things, though. Umbrella,   
backpack..."  
  
Shaking her head frenetically, she cut him off. "Pluto."  
  
Grissom wondered if the barometric pressure was affecting her   
brain. "I don't understand."  
  
"Remember when we were in the Utilidor? I almost tripped over his   
head. In a black costume bag."  
  
Even if she was wrong, he was awed by the connection. "If every   
costumed character is issued one..." He rose and ducked under the   
low hanging rocks. "Let's go get it analyzed."  
  
  
  
TBC in Chapter Eight 


End file.
